Moonstruck Madness: The Sorcerer's Stone
by jupiterjuniper
Summary: What would happen if Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe were dropped into the world of Harry Potter? Year One. AU.
1. Prologue

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Prologue

_"All pioneers are considered to be afflicted with moonstruck madness." (Gilbert Blythe, Anne of Avonlea)_

* * *

Gilbert meandered slowly down the avenue, rather distracted by the curious shiny object he was fiddling with.

He had found it entangled with some of his father's old fishing poles while he had been digging through his shed. It looked rather like an old pocket watch, but instead of a face with hands, there was an odd hourglass in the center filled with shimmering liquid. Dangling from the metal frame were misshaped odds and ends.

Strolling down the path, a long-forgotten fishing pole lodged under his arm, Gilbert's face twisted comically into a look of deep concentration. He was so intent on his new toy that he almost didn't see a red-haired girl turning the corner ahead of him.

His fingers hovering over an interesting looking knob, Gilbert halted as an oblivious Anne Shirley passed him with a dreamy expression.

"Hello, Anne," he greeted guardedly.

She froze, suddenly realizing that she wasn't alone. Upon seeing Gilbert, stiffened considerably and haughtily turned away. With her head held high, she continued as if she hadn't seen anyone.

Gilbert sighed. It had been worth the try.

At this point, several things happened at once. And as Gilbert would later kick himself for the simple misshap that would cause the complete chaos to come. As he too began walking again, he tripped over a tree stump over the side of the road. Instinctively reaching out to steady himself, he grabbed Anne's shoulder, while his other hand slipped, flipping the knob of the watch.

Immediately, leaving no time to think, the watch turned in on itself with a frightening sucking sound. Drawing Gilbert and Anne in, the last thing they could recall was the odd sensation of being squeezed through a tube…

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was extrodinary at prediction. So much so that he'd often even surprise himself. Even as much as he declined any sort of inner eye, his hunches were usually close to on the dot. However, what greeted him as he opened his office door that afternoon he could truthfully say he never saw coming.

It had started out as a relatively normal day - a good day, he might have said. He'd had his usual breakfast with the Hogwarts staff, and he'd even found the pair of fuzzy purple socks Pomona had given him, that he'd misplaced Christmas last year. Afterwards, he'd settled in for a peaceful morning reading the book Filius had given him - in celebration of the 100th anniversary of the creation of the time turner.

Interesting gadgets, they were. Although the inventors were British, the time turners were, in fact, developed in Canada. Fearful of the turner being discovered and misused in its early stages, the couple hid on Prince Edward Island, Canada, disguising themselves as Muggles. After working tirelessly for nearly thirty years, the couple finally perfected a final model and rejoined the British Wizarding community shortly after obtaining the necessary permits and patents.

Strangely enough, although their family was listed by the school board for eleven years, they had no children. Even stranger still, none of the earliest models of the time turner were ever found. Such discrepancies led to suspicion, and accusations of illegal time travelling or tampering. However, a lack of evidence prevented the couple from being formally tried.

On the opposite page, a photograph of the smiling Blythe couple was yellowing with age.

With such curiosities still swimming in his mind, Albus Dumbledore was more than surprised at the timeliness of the next series of events unfolded in his office. Just he swung the door open, a loud crack followed by a thump was heard, and two children hurtled into his office. A boy, almost a carbon copy of John Blythe, looked dazed, and stared uncomprehendingly at the room surrounding him. The redheaded girl that followed him, however, was quicker to revive.

She spluttered, "Gilbert Blythe, what in the world did you _do_?"

Albus Dumbledore sighed, feeling a headache coming on. He should have known that the start of this day had been too peaceful to last. He reached deep into the pockets of his robe, searching for the comforting yellow sweet. He popped one in his mouth before offering to the children; "Lemon drop, my dears?"

* * *

A/N:

We know. It's completely nuts.

Comments please? We're both amateurs here, so any suggestions would be helpful. :)


	2. Fools of Time

_"Time is making fools of us again." (Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince)_

* * *

_He popped one in his mouth before offering to the children; "Lemon drop, my dears?"_

Anne Shirley was absolutely furious. She should have known that anyone in the vicinity of Gilbert Blythe was doomed to get into a ridiculous situation like this.

It was a fine mess Gilbert had gotten them into. Not only did he manage to land them in a completely different time, but also, a completely different _universe for _goodness' sake.

She deliberately avoided his gaze, not noticing the bewildered expression he on his own face. Instead, she settled on intently watching the old professor, who seemed to be talking to the fireplace.

Even Professor Dumbledore was befuddled. Anne remembered how frustrating it had been for him, trying to ask the right questions without revealing too much for himself.

* * *

_Glaring daggers at him, she spluttered, "Gilbert Blythe, what in the world did you _do_?"_

_Right then, an old man with a long silver beard entered the room, his eyes twinkling maddeningly. After toning down the general chaos in the room, and seating a dazed Gilbert and rather disgruntled Anne, he spoke._

"_Now then," he said, calmly folding his hands on his desk, "Would you care to explain how you've ended up in my office?"_

_As Gilbert slowly came out of his glazed over state, and launched into the story of what happened on the avenue, Anne took in her surroundings. Curious, delicate instruments were on the professor's desk, and they were – floating? In_ mid air? _One even seemed to be spitting red sparks by itself. Suddenly, Anne realized the enormity of the situation. Where was she? And how would she get back?_

_Dumbledore's voice interrupted Anne's thoughts._

"_Most intriguing," he said fingering the metal watch, "It seems that you and Ms. Shirley have managed to cross two boundaries with this – watch, as you call it – one between your time frame and ours, and one between your universe and ours." Anne's eyes widened. _

_Dumbledore continued. "Most astonishing, however, __is that you've managed to penetrate __through Hogwarts' multiple wards." He paused. "Although I am getting a bit ahead of myself, aren't I? Allow me to explain…"_

_What followed was a lengthy description of the world they had landed in. Magic existed, and was all around them in all shapes and forms. They had landed themselves at Hogwarts, one of the best schools of witchcraft and wizardry, of which Dumbledore was currently headmaster of. The gadget that had transported them here was apparently called a time turner, which actually was much better developed in this time. But to land on the other side of the world _and_an alternate universe would require huge outbursts of raw magical energy. What's more, they were able to Hogwarts, even breaking through its heavily reinforced barriers, which could only mean..._

"_I'm a witch?" gasped Anne. Gilbert's eyes popped out of his sockets and he nearly went catatonic again. "How is that possible?"_

_Dumbledore looked intently at the both of them. "Has anything strange ever happened to you?" he asked, "Anything out of the ordinary – when you were feeling more powerful emotions? When you were hurt, or angry?"_

_Anne thought about this. She remembered when Josie Pye had dared her to walk the ridge pole of that roof, and she had survived with only a sprained ankle - and how quickly that had healed afterwards. And very vaguely, in the very deepest of her memories, she remembered a red-haired woman, lifting objects with the wave of a stick…_

_Seeing that the two children understood, Dumbledore's eyes sparkled again. _

"_Young witches and wizards often experience accidental magic when they are less emotionally stable; when they have little control over their magic. As they grow older, however, they learn to control their magic."_

_A witch! thought Anne. And this time, she was almost sure it wasn't simply her imagination running wild. What would Matthew and Marilla say? Would they still accept her? Matthew and Marilla! And everyone else she held dear in Avonlea. Would she ever see them again? In this universe, had she even existed? Or was she all alone once more? Strange, how much a person realized they cherished something once they had it taken away from them._

_Dumbledore's voice cut into her thoughts. "Now, __as we know very little about the nature of this time turner, we cannot be sure as to what is or is not safe to reveal, so for now, I must ask you to say as little as possible about past events regarding time; only what is necessary. My colleagues and I will be trying figure out this time turner issue, and we will inform you as soon as we have solved this mystery."_

_"The most immediate issue, however, is where you'll be staying…"_

* * *

Professor Dumbledore's head finally popped back out of the fireplace.

"I've found a temporary home for the both of you," he said, "You will be staying in Diagon Alley, a main center in the English Wizarding Community, with my good friend Tom. Now, travelling there by Floo is very simple. All you need to do is stand in this fireplace, throw a handful of this Floo powder, and say very clearly, 'the Leaky Cauldron'."

Anne and Gilbert stared at him incredulously, questioning his sanity.

"Come along, children," he said merrily, "We haven't got all day."

Haltingly, Anne and Gilbert followed his orders. Anne stepped into the oversized fireplace first, feeling rather silly.

"Before you leave, I must stress the importance of not revealing from which time you come from," Dumbledore said seriously, "You could very well find yourself wiped from existence if the wrong phrase slipped out."

Anne and Gilbert nodded solemnly. Anne saw that she would have to be very careful with her wording here. She couldn't afford to speak before she thought.

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore. My lips are sealed forever." Anne added with more than a touch of melodrama.

"Good," he said. "Now, Ms. Shirley, if you please, a handful of Floo powder…"

Anne grabbed a handful of the dust. "The Leaky Cauldron," she said clearly, before choking on the green fumes that leapt up around her….

* * *

Gilbert walked aimlessly down the short hallways. Tom had given Anne and Gilbert two rooms in the living quarters of the Leaky Cauldron. Much to Anne's despair, however, they were directly across from each other.

She was still avoiding him – probably still steaming about the time turner incident – but how was he supposed to know they would be transported to a different universe? How was he supposed to know they would be transported anywhere?

Nevertheless, she was still sending him scathing looks whenever he tried to talk to her, storming off immediately afterwards. He might have preferred the time when she would smash slates over his head to this stony silence.

Tom couldn't understand the animosity between the two, either. Because Dumbldore had said to only mention what was necessary, he was forced to keep Tom in the dark. It was a shame, really, Tom was amazingly easy to talk to – he supposed it came with being a innkeeper for many years. He might have been able to help Gilbert settle things with Anne. For now, though, Tom just had to settle for the lame explanation of a childhood feud.

Gilbert came to a wall of pictures. Black and white photos showed Tom's family and friends through the ages as they moved and interacted with each other.

_Wait – was that –?_ Gilbert stopped dead. In an old wooden frame was a dark haired couple, grinning and waving. It was picture of his parents from their younger days.

How could Tom have known his parents? They lived nearly a hundred years before, and he highly doubted that Tom was that old. Unless – were they related? Had Gilbert existed then? Or had his parents given birth to siblings he'd never know? He gaped openly.

Tom passed by, chuckling, misinterpreting the shock on Gilbert's face. "Dumbledore told me you were muggleborn – pictures in the Wizarding world move. It's a simple spell they put on the photo before it's developed. Bit of a shock, isn't it?" he grinned. "I imagine you'll get used to it after a while. It's a bit like what those Muggle contraptions do– what are they called? Tellys?"

"Y-es," Gilbert choked out, clearly not taking in a word of what Tom was saying.

"Lunch will be ready in half an hour," said Tom, "Come down when you're ready, alright? And try to drag Anne out too, will you? She spends far too much time in the room of hers. It's a wonder she's able to keep herself amused."

After Tom left, Gilbert sank down. He made a mental note to ask Dumbledore about this later on, when he had the chance. It was just too much- he'd had enough surprises this week.

He made another mental note to ask the next Muggleborn he met what a "telly" was.

* * *

Anne stared out of her window, as she had done every morning for the past week. She still hadn't gone out of the Leaky Cauldron at all, except for one trip to the bookstore and another trip to Florean Fortescue's. Anne had decided that she loved ice cream, despite the rather unusual flavors Florean offered.

Tom, the innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron, seemed nice enough, but he and Anne just hadn't clicked. Gilbert and Tom, on the other hand, had hit it off immediately. It seemed Dumbledore might not have to find Gilbert another home after all.

Today was a Sunday, which meant not too many people would be out and about. She decided to go shopping for her school supplies.

After dressing and walking down the stairs, Anne realized that part of the reason she had delayed this shopping up until now was that she had been hanging onto the hope that Dumbledore would find a way to send them home before the school year began. School started in just a few days, so there was no point in postponing it any longer.

Not paying attention to where she was going, Anne was torn out of her musings when she collided directly into Gilbert.

Anne straighted, and brushed herself off. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Blythe. Please excuse me." Anne said icily, then swept about to continue on her way.

"Look, Anne – " Gilbert began, but one frigid look from Anne stopped him.

Still fuming, Anne walked down the street of Diagon Alley. She then remembered that she had forgotten to bring her school supply list.

"I get dropped halfway around the world, more than over one hundred years after my original time, in a whole different _universe_, and I'm still just as heedless as I ever was…" she muttered to herself.

She finally decided to go to Flourish and Blotts and browse, since she didn't want to go back to the Leaky Cauldron. Not if there was the slightest chance of running into… No! She would _not_ let her thoughts go in that direction.

She walked into the shop and immediately went for the nonfiction section. Maybe there was a book about time turners in there that she could look at…

"Oh! I'm sorry…" Anne felt something hit her in the back and turned to see a girl with bushy brown hair and pretty eyes apologizing. She appeared to be walking and reading at the same time.

"It's alright," Anne said with a smile. She turned back to the shelf and saw _Hogwarts, a History_ on the spine of one of the books. She reached out towards it and found herself bumping hands with the girl.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" the girl stammered out again. "Do you want that book? It's supposed to be very interesting, all about Hogwarts! Of course, it doesn't have _everything_, but Hogwarts is a very big school. I already have a copy, of course, but I just wanted to look at it again since I left mine at home."

Anne laughed. "I'm Anne Shirley," she said, holding out her hand. "It appears that we have similar taste in books."

The girl smiled back. "Hermione Granger," she responded, taking Anne's hand. "What year are you going into?"

Anne had to think for a moment. "First," she replied.

"Me too!" Hermione exclaimed. "I only just found out about magic, but I'm looking forward to it so much! I'm a Muggleborn, you see – "

"A what?" interrupted Anne confusedly.

"A Muggleborn. Someone with parents who don't have magic. What about you?"

"I never knew my parents," Anne confessed. "But I think that they were wizards. I only just found out about magic too."

This prompted a discussion about what they had read about magic in books. After Anne bought _Hogwarts, a History_, they ended up going to Fortescue's to continue their conversation, which quickly diverged to new topics.

* * *

" – and I broke the slate over his head."

Hermione laughed so hard that she nearly choked on her ice cream. She looked down at her watch. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I've got to go meet my parents. You'll meet me at the platform, of course? It'll be so nice knowing someone already!"

"Definitely," Anne assured her. "See you then!"

Hermione departed. Anne sat alone at her table for a while, reading _Hogwarts, a History_ and staring off into space, imagining. She'd finally made a friend in this strange new world.


	3. Spots of Many Kinds

_"I say there are spots that don't come off...Spots that never come off, know what I mean?" (Mad-Eye Moody, GoF)_

* * *

Anne and Gilbert stood at platform nine and three-quarters. Anne was determinedly not looking at Gilbert, who seemed to have given up on trying to get her attention and was instead staring at the clock. Suddenly Anne looked up.

"Hermione!" she shouted, and dashed off with her cart. Gilbert looked after her for a while, then returned to his clock-staring.

Eventually, he muttered something quietly along the lines of "may as well get on now" and got on the train, lugging his large suitcase through the door.

Meanwhile, Anne was talking excitedly with Hermione as they walked down the train looking for a compartment. Hermione laughed, smiled, and nodded at appropriate moments as Anne told her all about Avonlea.

"So - " Hermione finally interjected. "What have you been doing since we met in Diagon Alley?"

"Well, first, I left Diagon Alley," said Anne with a grin. Hermione smacked her lightly on the shoulder. "Then, we went back to the Leaky Cauldron, and I spent the next few days in my room reading all of my new books!"

"I did exactly the same thing!" squealed Hermione. "Except I went to my house instead of the Leaky Cauldron."

They continued on in this vein for some time.

* * *

"Winnie, give me your ticket - "

"- one more owl telling me you've – you've blown up a toilet - "

"- Shut up Matt!"

"- SHEELA! _Put that down_-"

Despite the loud chatter, Gilbert was almost dozing off as he sat in the last compartment on the train. Unexpectedly, a skinny-looking boy with black hair and green eyes peeked his head in.

"Er... Can I sit here? There's no other space..."

"Sure," said Gilbert. "I'm Gilbert Blythe."

"Harry Potter." mumbled the other boy as he shoved his trunk into the shelf above.

Soon after, a very tall boy with red hair walked in and asked, "Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Harry and Gilbert both nodded, and the red-haired boy sat down. "Er... I'm Ron Weasley."

"Gilbert Blythe." Gilbert repeated immediately.

Ron turned towards Harry. "Are Fred and George telling the truth? Are you really Harry Potter?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes?" said Harry nervously.

"Oh," said Gilbert. "Do you two know each other already?"

Ron stared at him disbelievingly. "You've never heard of Harry Potter?"

"Well..." began Gilbert. He sighed inwardly. It seemed that this would take a lot of explanation.

* * *

"Sorry... have you seen a toad? Anywhere?"

Anne looked at Hermione, who shrugged. "Sorry, but we can help you look." Anne said kindly.

She and Hermione stood up and walked with Neville down the train. No one in any of the compartments had seen a toad. Eventually, they came to the last compartment.

Anne immediately began to talk. "Have any of you seen - " She stopped abruptly as she saw Gilbert and glared, then turned slightly away as if nothing had happened. " - a toad?"

"Neville's lost one," added Hermione.

"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Ron irritably.

Hermione ignored this and, noticing the wand he was holding, said "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."

"Magic? Really?" asked Anne, leaning in a little closer.

Ron looked rather surprised. He coughed, waved his wand, and recited "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

Nothing happened. Anne looked vaguely disappointed. Gilbert looked as if he was about to laugh, but he caught Anne's eye and his expression immediately changed.

"That doesn't seem like a real spell to me," said Anne. "It just doesn't sound right, somehow. Not at all like I imagined a spell would be."

"I've tried a few simple spells just for practice and it's all worked for me. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard - I've learned all our course books by heart, of course, I just hope it will be enough - I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, and this is Anne Shirley. Who are you? " Hermione rattled off very quickly.

"Ron Weasley." Ron said in a very disgruntled way.

"Harry Potter." Harry seemed in awe of Hermione.

"I'm Gilbert Blythe." said Gilbert. At this, Hermione's eyes widened, and she turned to Anne questioningly, who nodded curtly without looking at Gilbert at all. Gilbert was quite confused.

Hermione suddenly seemed to remember Harry. "Are you really Harry Potter? I know all about you, of course - "

"Hermione knows all about everything," interrupted Anne with a wry smile. "Actually, you are in a lot of books, you know."

"I am?" asked Harry somewhat dazedly. Gilbert chuckled quietly. Anne turned away even more and lifted her head up a little haughtily.

"Goodness, didn't you know? I'd have found out everything I could if it was me. Do you either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it." Hermione rattled off again.

"Ravenclaw might be alright too..." mused Anne dreamily. She appeared to be staring at the ceiling, though nothing was there. "Just imagine - "

"We'll be there soon, Anne, let's go. Come on, Neville." Hermione grabbed Anne by the arm and dragged her out of the compartment, Neville following meekly.

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," muttered Ron. "Anyway, Gilbert, why did she seem to hate you so much?"

"Who?" said Gilbert confusedly.

"Um... Anna?"

"I think her name was Anne," said Harry.

Gilbert sighed out loud this time. More explanations. How wonderful.

* * *

Anne and Hermione returned to their compartment.

"Those boys..." Hermione began, but she trailed off seeing the expression on Anne's face.

They sat silently for some time. Hermione pulled a book out of her trunk, and Anne gazed out the window, imagining Hogwarts. What would magic be like? Which house would she be in?

"What's that noise?" said Hermione abruptly.

Anne looked away from her reverie and finally heard loud stomping noises, that sounded like many people running as quickly as they could.

"Let's go out and check," suggested Anne. They left the compartment and headed for the source of the noises, which turned out to be the last compartment.

"What _has_ been going on?" asked Hermione once she saw the scene of mass chaos.

"I think he's been knocked out," Ron announced, holding a rat by the tail.

Anne looked revolted. "Is - that - a rat?" she managed to sputter.

"His name is Scabbers," said Ron, sounding mildly irritated. "No - I don't believe it - he's gone back to sleep."

"You've met Malfoy before?" Gilbert asked Harry.

Harry briefly explained that they had met in Diagon Alley.

"I've heard of his family," Ron said venemously. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. Can we help you with something?" he asked Hermione, who had been whispering loudly to Anne.

"You'd better hurry up and put your robes on, I've just been up to the front to ask the conductor, and he says we're nearly there. You haven't been fighting have you? You'll be in trouble before we even get there!"

"Scabbers has been fighting, not us," Ron said angrily.

"Please, could you stop waving your rat in my face?" said Anne, who looked slightly green. Gilbert looked up at her, but she continued to ignore him.

Ron shoved Scabbers back into his cage. "Would you mind leaving while we change?" Ron asked irritably.

"We only came in here because of all of the noise," snapped Anne. "Certainly, we'll oblige."

"You've got dirt on your nose, by the way, did you know?" Hermione sniffed. They both left as quickly as they could.


	4. The Sorting

Harry stared at the black inside of the Hat, waiting. then a small voice said in his ear, "Bee in your bonnet, Harry Potter?"  
"Er, yes," Harry muttered. _(Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone)_

* * *

"A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Momentarily, the train lurched to a stop. Everyone pushed their way out the narrow doors of the train, and onto a small platform.

Hermione and Anne soon followed the three boys out of the train. As they stepped onto the platform, Hermione looked disapprovingly at the boys and sniffed loudly.

"Honestly, what's her problem?" said Ron, clearly annoyed.

"She's probably bothered about what Scabbers did. Her friend didn't seem to like him much either," commented Harry.

"How was I supposed to know she didn't like rats?" Ron said, highly affronted. "What was her name again? Annie?"

"Anne," muttered Gilbert.

"Girls," Ron sighed. "They're all the same. Can't blame you for calling her carrots, though. Her hair's even redder than mine, and that's saying something."

"Aren't carrots orange?" murmured Harry to himself.

Ron looked at him strangely. Gilbert was immensely confused, but remained silent.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" called a voice. Ron could see a lantern bobbing over the sea of students.

As they got closer, Ron could see the bearer of the lantern. He was huge! His hands were the size of trashcan lids.

"Blimey," he said in awe.

"All right there, Harry?" the giant boomed. He towered over the rest of the first years.

Harry nodded with a smile."This is Hagrid," he whispered to Ron and Gilbert, "The person I was talking to you about on the train. He's the keeper of the keys at Hogwarts."

"Oh," Ron said in a small voice. He wasn't quite sure how such a big man could keep track of all the keys to Hogwarts.

"C'mon, follow me – any more firs' years? Mind yer step now! Firs' years follow me!" Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path.

* * *

Hermione smiled softly as she listening to her Canadian friend chatter on.

In primary school, she hadn't had any friends. Her aspiration for learning and knowledge had scared the other girls off. A teacher's pet, they called her. But weren't they curious in the least? About how things worked; why? About how everything fit together?

That was when she learned that girls were capable of being so much crueler than boys. Boys would fight and kick, but girls could throw cutting words that hurt more than any punch. So, she was isolated in her own world of books and imagination.

Receiving her Hogwarts letter had been a new burst of hope for Hermione, learning magic would be a whole new kind of knowledge, and she would be able to meet people more like herself. Maybe magical children would be different from Muggle children, maybe they would value learning more since it would be such a vital part of their lives. After devouring her textbooks and other books about Hogwarts, she decided that if she couldn't find a friend anywhere else, she would at least be able to find a study partner in Ravenclaw house.

After meeting Anne in Diagon Alley, a weight she hadn't known was there was lifted off Hermione's shoulders. She would have someone to help her familiarize with magic, who wouldn't laugh if she got things horribly muddled. She had a friend! They were "kindred spirits", as Anne would call it. The moment they both reached for the same book, Hermione knew that they would be instant friends.

"Oh!" gasped Anne, breaking off from the long- winded story she was telling, and Hermione looked up in surprise.

"The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. On top of a high mountain on the other side, stood a grand castle. Its many windows glittered in the darkness of the night. A misty fog rolled over the lake, giving the castle a mysterious air.

"No more'n four to a boat!" called Hagrid, pointing toward a small group of boats resting on the shore.

Hermione stated for the boats before realizing that Anne wasn't following her. She looked back. Anne was still entranced, staring dreamily at the castle.

Hermione backtracked to where Anne was standing.

"Anne?" Hermione said hesitantly. "Anne, we've got to get on a boat or we'll be the last ones left."

"Oh, Hermione, I think I could just stand here all night," said Anne with a faraway look, "Beautiful doesn't even begin to describe it –"

Hermione interrupted her, grabbing her arm. "You can come out here any other night you'd like," She said, pulling her towards the boats, "But you've got to get sorted first."

She steered clear of the boat Harry, Ron, and Gilbert were occupying, and lead Anne into a boat where two Asian girls were chattering excitedly.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "You there, still gor yer toad? Right then – FORWARD!"

* * *

The door swung open at once.

They were lead into a large hallway, where a stern faced witch was waiting for them.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said, "I can take them from here."

They walked down the length of a hall. Goyle's mouth hung open unintelligible, no doubt thinking of the feast waiting on the other side of the hallway. Draco rolled his eyes. _This_ was the company he would be keeping all year? But he supposed having two bodyguards of sorts would be helpful.

Stopping at an empty chamber, the dark haired witch addressed them.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I will be teaching your Transfiguration classes. The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before that, you will be sorted into your Houses. Your House will be something like your family in Hogwarts. You will attend classes with House, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."

Draco zoned out, observing his classmates instead. He'd already learned everything he needed to know about the sorting from his parents. Unlike the parents of many of the other worried-looking children, they believed it was best for him to be prepared. They were working up their nerves for nothing.

He smirked. The Weasley boy was looking particularly green, and Potter wasn't much better off.

_Potter._

Potter had humiliated him. Who did Potter think he was, to stand him up like that? He would soon see that insulting the Malfoy family was a bad move indeed.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." McGonagall's eyes lingered on a few individuals.

Draco scoffed. It was clear that the mudbloods learned nothing of the importance presentation and appearances in public. But then again, none of them had to worry about the responsibility of holding a pureblood status.

Suddenly, several people screamed. About a dozen pearly-white ghosts streamed through a wall. They seemed to be arguing amongst each other before noticing the first years.

"Oh!" a round monk exclaimed in delight, "New students, I see. Hope to see you all in Hufflepuff. My old house you know-"

Draco snorted. As if. He'd probably be pulled out of Hogwarts if that happened. Getting sorted into Hufflepuff would almost be worse than joining the Gryffindor blood-traitors.

A shimmer caught Draco's eye. Lurking in the shadow was a refined-looking ghost. His face was thin and hollow, his emotionless eyes staring. His heart was pierced through, silver blood still staining his robes. The Bloody Baron. Despite the gaping hole in his chest, he still managed to look condescendingly at the other first years. He looked meaningfully at the young Malfoy heir.

Draco inclined his head slightly, trying not to grimace. Where he belonged was Slytherin, where the sly and cunning were. Like the rest of his family. He would make his family proud.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin." Professor McGonagall had returned.

* * *

The old Sorting Hat waited patiently on the three-legged stool. It was as patient as it always had been, throughout these long years.

The had had grown patched and frayed over the years, and none of the splendor from the time when it had sat on Godric Gryffindors' head remained. But its mind had remained as sharp as it had in its younger days, and from the pulse of thoughts and emotion coming from the young first years, it could tell it would definitely be an interesting year.

The hat chucked to itself. The awe-struck expressions on the first years' faces were always something worthwhile to see. Their first real taste of magic – how innocent and carefree they were now.

As the hall grew quiet, the hat twitched once, before opening the rip near its brim wide, like a mouth. This was the moment it had been waiting for, how it had been passing the tedious minutes in Dumbledore's office. – its distraction from collecting dust and reflecting on its hazy memories.

It sang,

_Oh you may not think me pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you_  
_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
_Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
_Set Gryffindors apart;_  
_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
_Where they are just and loyal,_  
_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
_And unafraid of toil;_  
_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
_if you've a ready mind,_  
_Where those of wit and learning,_  
_Will always find their kind;_  
_Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
_You'll make your real friends,_  
_Those cunning folks use any means_  
_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
_And don't get in a flap!_  
_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The hall burst into applause. And now – it was time for the sorting to begin.

The first up, a blonde pig-tailed girl stumbled onto the stool, before the hat was lowered onto her head. A pause –

"HUFFLEPUFF!" It shouted.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff side.

"Blythe, Gilbert!" called Professor McGonagall

Gilbert nervously stepped up to the stool.

"Good luck, mate," whispered Ron.

The hat dropped over his head, and all he could see was the dark insides of the hat.

"Ah.." said a small voice near his ear, "A time traveler, I see. A bit far from home, aren't you? Let's see…I can see loyalty, and lots of courage. Very intelligent, too – but I can't see you looking for knowledge just for cleverness. Better be - GRYFFINDOR!"

The table farthest to the left exploded in cheers, as Gilbert quickly stood up.

Just as the hat was lifted to sort the next first year, Gilbert heard it say: "And try not to aggravate that redhead anymore, will you? We have enough drama from the Seventh years as it is…"

Gilbert shook hands with the rather pompous prefect, before sitting near the end of the table.

He waited in anticipation for 'Shirley, Anne" as the hat Sorted the remaining students.

The Indian girl Anne had been sitting next to on the boats had been sorted into Ravenclaw.

Finch-Fletchley…Granger – in Gryffindor, much to Ron's dismay …Longbottom… MacDougal…Malfoy…

After a couple more students, Harry was called up to the stool. After what looked like a short debate with the sorting hat, he was finally sorted into Gryffindor. The loudest cheers of all followed.

Harry stepped down, and after many congratulatory handshakes, he took a seat next to Gilbert. He looked a bit ill. Gilbert smiled encouragingly to him before turning his attention back to the Sorting Hat.

"Shirley, Anne!"

Finally! His eyes glued to the scene, he watched anxiously as a pale-faced Anne put the ancient hat over her flaming hair.

A few moments later, the hat screamed – GRYFFINDOR!

Gilbert groaned. He should have been expecting it. Anne swept past him, still managing to glare at him despite her nerves.

There went his hope to stay at relative peace with Anne this year.

* * *

_Hmm... this is interesting_, thought the Hat. So this was the redhead that had occupied so many of the Blythe boy's thoughts. Her mind was very active; she had her own way of thinking. The Hat could tell she was vibrant and full of life. She had plenty of courage, too, but a strong tendency to act a bit rashly. However, her heart was in the right place, and she would grow into a fine woman.

But at the moment, from the thoughts that were dominating her mind, Hat could also very clearly tell that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with Mr. Blythe.

The Sorting Hat prided himself on his matchmaking skills; he knew a good pair when he saw one. And he saw that if this girl overcame her stubbornness, she and Mr. Blythe could build a strong and long lasting friendship.

The two reminded him of another pair from a few decades ago – Lily Evans and James Potter. Bright, feisty Lily, and a noble, but rather big headed James. Their love had lasted until the very end.

Yes, Ms. Shirley definitely belonged in – GRYFFINDOR!

The Hat chucked as he watched Mr. Blythe banging his head on the table.

After all, what was Hogwarts without a bit of chaos?

This year at Hogwarts would most definitely be a very interesting year indeed.

* * *

_A/N: Gilbert and Anne are the same age in this series, just to make things easier. Also, we took some dialogue directly from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - we couldn't quite figure out how to cite the bits and pieces without making a mess of italics._

_Reviews? Please? We'd really like to know how we're doing so far._

_~l00ny and junie_


	5. Of Carrot Cake, Trousers, and Meddlesome

Late disclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter or Anne of Green Gables.

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 5

Of Carrot Cakes, Trousers, and Meddlesome Old Hats

_"Node iddum eentup eschew," Ron Weasley, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

* * *

Professor McGonagall took the sorting hat out of the Great Hall after the last student was sorted. Ron lfooked down at his polished plate, his stomach growling. It seemed like ages ago since he had last eaten those sweets from the Express trolley. Gilbert and Harry seemed to be eying the empty plates hungrily too.

Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat, his eyes twinkling merrily.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin the delicious feast that has been prepared for us, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

"Thank you!"

He sat back down to a roaring applause. Ron saw that Harry was beginning to question Dumbledore's sanity.

"Is he – is he a bit mad?" Harry asked Ron's' brother, Percy uncertainly.

Ron had no doubt he was, especially after all his brothers had told him. Granted, Fred and George weren't exactly the most credible sources of information…But after defeating one of the darkest wizards of his time, Dumbledore had to be a bit loopy, didn't he?

"Mad?" said Percy pompously, "Perhaps he might be. But he's a genius! The best wizard in the world! Potatoes, Harry?"

Ron's eyes widened as the plates in front of them filled with all kinds of delicious food. Boiled potatoes, chicken, beef, fries, carrots, peas, pudding – Ron wasted no time in piling his plate high with food.

A few blissful mouthfuls later, Ron noticed that Harry and Gilbert were still gaping open-mouthed at the full platters.

"Archoo gon naee anding?" He said around a spoonful of pudding. Harry came out of his reverie, and began piling his plate, albeit at a much more restrained pace than Ron.

"There's so much food," he said in awe.

"Well, what did you expect?" said Ron, gulping down the last of his pumpkin juice. He reached for a second helping of potatoes. "It's the opening feast! I reckon the house elves haven't had a chance to get this busy all summer."

"What's –" began Harry, but Ron cut him off when he noticed his other friend.

Gilbert's mouth still hung wide open.

"What's the matter, mate? Aren't you hungry?"

"How did_ that_…?" he trailed off, murmuring something unintelligible.

Ron shrugged. He proceeded to continue shoveling food in his mouth. _Some_ people just didn't know how to properly appreciate good food.

* * *

Gilbert finally managed to take a piece of steak.

He still couldn't believe the speed of such magic! Just moments ago, the golden plates had been sparkling clean. Now, they were filled with all kinds of food he'd never seen before.

At Tom's, Gilbert hadn't seen much magic, just an occasional cleaning spell here and there. Tom hadn't let Gilbert and Anne in the bar, either, as he felt that the muggleborns wouldn't take to the sudden strangeness of it all very well.

"That does look delicious, "said a ghost in a ruff mournfully, watching Gilbert.

"Can't you –?"

"I haven't eaten in hundreds of years," answered the ghost. "Not that I need to, of course, but one does miss the taste." He stared at Gilbert's plate wistfully. "I don't think I've introduced myself properly, have I? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington of Gryffindor tower, at your service."

"I know who you are!" said Ron suddenly. "You're Nearly Headless Nick!"

"I would prefer Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porp—"

"_Nearly_ Headless?" interrupted Hermione skeptically, "How can you be _nearly_ headless?"

Nearly Headless Nick sighed. It ended like this every year, didn't it? "Like this," he sighed, obviously miffed.

He grabbed his left ear and pulled. The rest of his head followed, but stopped when it hit his shoulder, as if it were on a hinge. Clearly, someone hadn't done a very good job beheading him. Sir Nicholas flipped his had back onto his neck, looking pleased with the stricken looks he was drawing from the first years.

"So – new Gryffindors! You'll help us win the House Championship this year, I hope? Slytherins have beaten us to the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron was kind enough to remind me the other day – he's the Slytherin ghost."

Gilbert looked up to see a terrible ghost floating above the Slytherin table, his robes covered in sliver blood. He looked strangely familiar…

Gilbert nudged Ron. "Isn't he that ghost we saw in the corridor?" he whispered.

"What ghost?" asked Ron, confused.

"The one staring at Malfoy!"

Ron hadn't noticed. Gilbert looked over at the Slytherin table. The blonde-haired boy didn't seem to be overly pleased with this new seating.

"How did he get covered in so much blood?" asked sandy-haired Seamus.

"I've never thought to ask," Nearly Headless Nick said lightly.

When everyone had stuffed themselves with as much of the main course as they could, the leftover food vanished. The golden plates were left as clean as they had been before the feast had started. Moments later, desserts appeared. Jello, pies, tarts, ice cream, pudding-- every kind of desert imaginable.

Gilbert helped himself to a slice of pumpkin pie, and was about to take a forkful, but a slice of carrot cake on a place begun nudging him in the arm. He tried to avoid the plate, but to no avail.

"Are all magical deserts like this?" asked a rather disgruntled Gilbert. Harry and Ron shrugged, trying to hide their smiles as Gilbert once again tried to dodge the persistent platter.

"Seems like Hogwarts is having quite a bit of fun mocking me today," grumbled Gilbert darkly.

Anne looked over at them for a moment, saw the carrot cake, turned as red as her hair, and immediately turned away.

Next to him, the conversation soon turned to families.

"I'm half and half," said Seamus, "Me dad's a Muggle. Mum's a witch. But of a nasty shock for him when he found out she was one."

They all laughed.

"What about you, Gilbert?" said Ron.

"Me?" asked Gilbert uneasily, who was still trying to avoid the slice of carrot cake in vain.

"Yeah, you and Anne don't sound like you're from around here. Where did you say you were from? Canada?"

The others looked on in interest.

"I was wondering about that," said Neville, "You've got a different sort of accent."

Gilbert darted a look at Anne. She looked just as alarmed. What was he supposed to say? That he was from an Avonlea from nearly a hundred years ago? That he had accidentally landed him and Anne at Hogwarts with a faulty time turner?

"Err…Well, Anne and I are both muggleborns. We did used to live in the same town in Canada, but we ended up having to move to England because of circumstances…" he finished rather lamely.

The others, seeing this was an uncomfortable topic for Gilbert and Anne, didn't pry any further.

"What about you, Neville?" asked Gilbert, as he desperately tried to change the subject. The platter of carrot cake had finally given up after banging back down on the table.

"I live with my gran and she's a witch," said Neville. "Actually, it was a big surprise to everyone in my family that I got my Hogwarts letter. They thought I was all-muggle for years. My great-uncle Algie kept trying to surprise me and force the magic out of me. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool once –nearly drowned—but nothing really happened until I was about eight. Great-uncle Algie came for supper, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great auntie came in and he accidentally let go. I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road without a scratch. They were all really happy, Gran was even crying. You should have seen their faces when I got my letter – they didn't think I had enough magic in me, you see. Great-uncle Algie was so pleased he even bought me Trevor, my toad."

On the other side of the table, Percy, Hermione, and Anne were talking about magic classes excitedly. ("I really hope they start lessons straight away; there's just so much to learn. I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, and Anne thinks Charms would be fun. Of course, they're supposed to be two of the harder classes –"; "You'll start out small, just matches and feathers and such—")

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his forehead.

"What's the matter?" asked Gilbert.

"N-nothing."

Harry looked a little off. He was looking strangely at the head table. Gilbert followed Harry's gaze, seeing a teacher in a purple turban. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw his eyes glint with hatred, but just as quickly, the teacher shrunk into himself, looking extremely nervous.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" asked Harry, his eyes never leaving the sallow-faced man. Gilbert directed his attention to the sallow faced man next to the professor with the turban. He was looking rather sour, and seemed to be begrudgingly trying to make small talk with Professor Quirrell.

"Oh, you've already met Quirrell? That's Professor Snape next to him. He teaches Potions, but everyone knows he doesn't want to. He's after Quirrell's job. He knows a whole lot about the Dark Arts, Snape – no wonder Quirrell looks so nervous." Percy answered promptly.

Gilbert watched the pair of professors for a while, but they didn't turn their attention to the Gryffindors again.

Finally, the desserts disappeared too, and Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat again. The great hall grew silent.

"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-terms notices for you.

"First years should not that the forbidden forest is just that – forbidden. Some of our older students are reminded of that as well."

Dumbledore's gaze flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins, who were doing their best to look as innocent as possible and failing miserably.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that magic should not be used between classes.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of this term. Anyone in second year or higher interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch.

"And lastly, I must tell you that for this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish toe die a very painful death." His voice was uncharacteristically stern.

Next to Gilbert, Harry laughed, but he was one of the few students who did.

"He's not serious, is he?" he heard Harry mutter to Percy.

"I suppose he is," frowned Percy. "It's strange – he usually gives us a good reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. The forbidden forest is full of dangerous creatures; everyone should know that. He might have told us prefects why we're forbidden, at the very least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" said Dumbledore. Gilbert saw that the other's teachers' smiles were rather forced at this time.

Dumbledore flicked his wand lightly, and a long ribbon flew out of it, which floated high above the four tables twisted itself into curved words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune, and off we go!" said Dumbledore cheerfully.

_"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_You do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn till our brains all rot."_

Everyone finished the song at varying times. Anne laughed -- the Weasley twins were the last to finish, singing to a slow funeral dirge.

"Ah, music," said Dumbledore, wiping a tear from his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Hogwarts student body got up as a mass, trying to squeeze the great double doors at the front. Somehow, the house prefects managed to sag all their first years.

"Gryffindor first years! Follow me!" called Percy. Anne began sleepily following after Hermione as Percy lead them through the castle, telling them to pay attention to the various twists and turns through the castle. Anne tried to stay alert, but she was having trouble just keeping her eyes open--she thought she might drift off the sleep right there. But there was something nagging her in the back of her mind…

"Oh!" exclaimed Anne, now wide awake. She suddenly remembered the handwritten note that had been tucked in with her Hogwarts letter. Dumbledore had requested to see her and Gilbert after the welcoming feast.

"I'll be right back," she said to Hermione, "I've got to go see Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" Hermione asked with interest, "Why?"

"I'm not really sure. Something to do with foreign student processes, I suppose." Anne said evasively.

"I've got to go – make sure one of the Prefects knows where I've gone, will you?" She hurried away.

"Alright..." Hermione trailed off, a bit surprised at Anne's sudden departure.

* * *

In truth, Anne hadn't any idea why Dumbledore might want to see her and Gilbert. How could she have forgotten? Anne couldn't help but notice that Gilbert had already left.

She was extremely hopeful that Dumbledore had found a way to send them back. Dumbledore was one of the greatest wizards in the world, after all. If he couldn't find a way, who could? Hogwarts and the Wizarding World were wonderful, but she was already longing for her home back at Green Gables. To her surprise, she found she missed everyone there: Matthew, Marilla, Diana, Ruby, Mrs. Lynde – maybe even Josie Pye, just for a familiar face.

Anne took a few more turns before realizing she had not clue where Dumbledore's office was. Or where she was, for that matter. _Well, it can't be that hard to find_, she reasoned, After_ all, a headmaster's office had to be accessible to the students, didn't it?_ Maybe she could find her way back to the Great Hall and work from there_--? _She reread Dumbledore's slanted writing, desperately hoping for some kind of encrypted direction.

_Dear Ms. Shirley,_

_As we discussed upon your arrival, the best choice in light of your situation is for you and Mr. Blythe to stay at Hogwarts in the meantime. I apologize for not being able to help you become more acquainted with the Wizarding World, as I've been rather busy lately, but I trust that Tom has helped you adjust. _

_Consequently, I would like to discuss recent findings I'm sure will be of interest to you. If you would be so kind as to come to my office after the welcoming feast, we can discuss this at a greater length. I wish you a safe journey to Hogwarts._

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. I particularly enjoy peppermint humbugs._

Anne sighed, thoroughly exasperated. What did peppermint humbugs have to do with anything? She took another flight of stairs before having the misfortune of running straight into Gilbert.

"Mr. Blythe," she said coolly, and turned her back on him, trying to reorient herself.

Gilbert, who looked like he hadn't much of a clue where he was either, tried to ask her something. She pointedly ignored him. She'd find Dumbledore's office somehow – she'd rather search the whole castle before willingly pairing up with _him_, she thought stubbornly.

"Lost, my dears?" a kindly voice asked.

Anne looked up in surprise. Floating a few feet from them was the Hufflepuff ghost from before.

"Yes," she replied. "Could you direct us to Dumbledore's office?"

"Dumbledore's office?" asked the perplexed monk, "You're quite a ways from there. Haven't been up to any mischief, I hope?"

Anne shook her head. "Dumbledore wants to see us."

The Fat Friar, as he said everyone called him, lead them to Dumbledore's office. Anne found the jolly ghost very easy to talk to. She and the Friar chattered on, trying to fill the awkward silence between her and Gilbert.

"Ah, here we are." The Friar stopped at a strange looking stone gargoyle.

"This is Dumbledore's office?" asked Anne uncertainly.

"Oh! You need to tell the gargoyle password to open it, of course."

Password? Dumbledore hadn't mentioned any password. Anne glanced over at Gilbert, who looked equally confused.

"I see Dumbledore forgot to give you the password. I'm afraid I don't know what it is either," the Friar said fretfully. "Not to worry, I'll send over one of the professors to help you. In the meantime, try guessing. Dumbledore's known for having queer passwords," with that, the Friar disappeared through a wall.

Anne stared helplessly at the stone gargoyle. What on earth could Dumbledore's password be?

"Founders?" tried Gilbert hopefully. The statue didn't move.

No, thought Anne, that would be much too easy for someone to guess.

"Oddment?" Anne tried, but with no result.

She remembered the odd postscript at the end of Dumbledore's letter. She wondered, could it be --?

"Peppermint humbugs?"

The stone gargoyle leapt aside and the stone wall behind it split open. It revealed a large, slowly moving spiral staircase.

As Anne and Gilbert stood on the moving staircase in awe, the stone wall resealed itself behind them...

* * *

The rest of the Gryffindor first years sleepily followed Percy out of the Great Hall, and up the winding staircases. They came to a sudden stop in front of a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink dress.

"Password?" she said.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung open to reveal a large hole in the wall. They all climbed through the doorway and found themselves in the Gryffindor common rooms. It looked warm and inviting, decorated predominantly in red and gold.

The first years stifled their yawns.

Percy directed the boys to a staircase on one side of the room, and the girls to another. Drowsily, the girls climbed the winding staircase. At the top, they found four four-poster beds hung with heavy, red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been moved to the foot of their beds. Exhausted, they slipped on their pajamas and soon feel into a deep, warm sleep…

* * *

Gilbert knocked on the heavy wooden door tentatively. "Come in," a voice said from the other side of the room. The door swung open, and Anne and Gilbert found themselves in the peculiar room they had landed themselves in the first day in the strange new world. The professors that had been in the Great Hall were congregated around Dumbledore's desk. Gilbert looked nervously at the teachers gravely studying him and Anne.

"Sit down, my children," said Dumbldeore, motioning to two cushy purple chairs he had conjured upon their entrance.

"As you are aware, I have requested your presence here tonight to discuss your predicament. Because of the seriousness of this situation, I felt that we had to address this as soon as possible. I know you have travelled a long way, and I will try not to keep up too long after curfew, or Madame Pomfrey will have my head." He glanced at a middle aged witch that was clearly not happy with the fact that her new students would be deprived of sleep before their first day.

"Because there was no backlash as a result of informing me about your dimension travelling, it seems that we have broken no rules of time. I hope you will find it acceptable that I have informed some of the Hogwarts staff about your situation as well. Professor McGonagall, your head of house, Professor Flitwick, Professor Burbage and Madame Pomfrey and myself can help you adjust to this new time period, and answer any questions you may have. However, I ask that you do not tell anyone else about time travelling. Information like this could be dangerous if it were put in the wrong hands, and because we hope that we can return you to your proper time period as soon as possible, it would be best for the smallest number of people to know about this."

Anne bit her lip. She'd definitely have a problem with this rule. She was often told that she should think things through before words came out of her mouth. It looked like she would be putting this practice to the ultimate test in the near future, when she was chattering on with Hermione.

"Allow me to introduce you to some of the Hogwarts staff that will be able to aid you during your stay here," continued Dumbledore, "Madame Pomfrey, our school nurse, who will be giving you both a diagnostic test," the matronly woman was still doing her best not to glare at Dumbledore, "Professor McGonagall, your head of house," he motioned to a stern looking witch who gave them a nod, "Professor Flitwick, the charms teacher," a tiny, excitable looking man, "and of course, Professor Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher at Hogwarts." The middle aged brunette witch smiled warmly at them.

"I can't imagine how difficult it would be to be a muggleborn one hundred years behind," she said sympathetically, "My door is always open, my dears, if you have any questions."

Anne smiled back at the kindly witch -- she knew she was a kindred spirit instantly. She definitely hoped she would see the young professor more.

"Of course, Professor Bubbage is correct in saying that finding yourselves nearly a hundred years in the future would be a mind-boggling situation for anyone. No doubt you've already come across something strange that definitely was not part of your time."

Gilbert debated with himself as to whether or not it was the right time to ask what a 'telly' was. He decided against it. Anne, however, didn't hesitate in speaking her thoughts.

"Oh yes! The girls here wear the same trousers as the boys do! Can you imagine? Although I do admit, they do look easier to move around in. But the strangest thing of all is that all of them are that same shade of blue. And the skirts that few of them wear only come up to their knees! I could probably get used to wearing trousers, but I don't think I could ever be comfortable wearing such a short skirt- it just seems a little indecent, doesn't it?"

One of the professors coughed. Gilbert sat at the edge of his seat awkwardly. Trust Anne to notice the _trousers_ of all things. She was going to be heartbroken when she got around to noticing that girls' trousers weren't they only difference in fashion – he saw hardly anyone wearing puffed sleeves.

Dumbledore chuckled, "As it is Ms. Shirley, Professor Bubbage and I have arranged some private Muggle Studies lessons to help you familiarize with this time and age—as soon as you have adjusted to life at Hogwarts."

Professor Dumbledore then reached into a drawer in his desk, and pulled out the silvery device that had dropped them in this strange world. "This time turner is a rather curious device," he said, "It is set up quite differently from the way modern time turners are. Professor Flitwick and I have studied your time turner at a great length, and we have found that among other spells, was a rather complex spell similar to a portkey. A portkey is an object that can transport you wherever you wish to go on touch," explained Dumbledore, "Provided you set up the portkey correctly, of course. Quite ingenuous of them, I might say so myself, but the only problem is, this makes dimensional travelling rather one-way."

Gilbert's heart sank. Did this mean that they had no choice but to stay in the mad age?

"But," said Dumbledore quickly, "there is still much to be discovered. That faulty time turner has been giving us many surprises."

After Dumbledore had dismissed the other professors, he asked if they had any private questions.

Anne immediately asked what they should tell their classmates when questioned abou their reasons for coming to Hogwarts . She relayed the scene at dinner to him, starting with the question that Ron had innocently asked. "I suppose we were a little overwhelmed with everything, and we couldn't come up with a suitable answer. I went blank with shock. My imagination abandoned, at my greatest time of need!" Anne said dramatically.

Remembering the sense of panic that simple question had evoked, Gilbert nodded.

"Ah, I see," said Dumbledore. "It was foolish of me not to expect this kind of problem to arise so early on. Luckily, however, your reaction to the question about your families seems to match with the documents I ---ah, _modified_, shall we say?"

"I hope these explanations will be adequately personal enough to prevent any questions you can't answer – Hogwarts rarely accepts students from so far away. To fill in any gaps, it would probably be best to stick to real events."

"As for Mr. Blythe, I have recorded that your parents sent you to stay with a relative while your parents are figuring out their martial and custody issues."

"Ms. Shirley, however, was discovered by one of the Hogwarts staff who happened visiting Canada on a trip, noticed a display of accidental magic. Conveniently, Professor Babbage was on a cultural trip in Nova Scotia last month. Unfortunately, Ms. Shirley, you cannot be traced back to Matthew or Marilla Cuthbert, because they never adopted a girl in this universe, so we must say that at the time, you were still living with Mrs. Thomas."

"But Professor," said Anne, "Wouldn't it have been easier for me in this hypothetical situation to go to a school in Canada instead?

"Your mother and father actually attended Hogwarts when they were young," answered Dumbledore. Anne's eyes widened. "So it would be perfectly reasonable for the ministry to allow you to choose Hogwarts as opposed to a Canadian school. Your parents moved to Bolingbroke to teach at a smaller Canadian academy just before you were born, which is why you've spent almost your entire life in Canada."

He handed Anne an old photograph of a young couple waving energetically at the camera. Anne clutched the photo tightly.

"Bertha Willis and Walter Shirley!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining. "Aren't those perfectly wonderful names? And my mother wasn't homely at all, even though she had red hair! Mrs. Thomas always said that red was a most unbecoming hair color; she said it made them look sickly --"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. Anne blushed. "The back of the Hogwarts library keeps old school records, if you are interested, Ms. Shirley. I'm sure you dig up some more photographs there."

"Is there anything else you would like to ask me?"

A pressing question had been nagging at Gilbert ever since he had gone into Diagon Alley to buy books with money Tom had given him. Even secondhand books had been rather expensive; surely Tom wasn't going to pay for the both of them until they went back?

"Well, sir, " he began hesitantly, "I was wondering how our school fees and other expenses would be covered."

Dumbledore blinked in surprise, before looking thoroughly amused. "The practical one, I see, Mr. Blythe. To answer your question, I have set up scholarship funds that you and Ms. Shirley have access to. Owls from Gringotts, the Wizarding bank, with the information should come within the end of this week. On occasion, we have students that cannot pay for Hogwarts fees because of financial reasons, and they are given scholarship loans to aid them throughout their school career. If you and Ms. Shirley manage your money well, the money currently in your funds should sustain you until the end of this year." He paused. "However, I hope you will be back at your homes in Avonlea by then."

He continued. "Before I send you children off to the Gryffindor Tower," he glanced at Gilbert, who was slouched drowsily in his chair, "I took the liberty to find some books on rare cases of time travel. You may find the information in these books helpful…"

* * *

The sleepy children trudged out of his office after pocketing the shrunken versions of the books. Once he had heard the stone gargoyle in front of his entrance lock back in place, he rounded on an old tattered hat.

"Care to share as to why you put those two in the same house?" he asked, with obvious curiosity. The expression on Anne's face when he had told her that they would be having the majority of their classes together was nothing close to joy.

"Now Albus," chuckled the hat, "You know very well that what I hear in a student's mind is confidential."

"Well, it was worth a try," said Dumbledore good naturedly, finding lemon drop and popping it in his mouth. After all, a meddlesome old sorting hat needed to have its fun once in a while.

* * *

A/N:

Did you know there's a daylily called 'Moonstruck Madness'? It's actually quite pretty --it's our profile picture at the moment. :)

We (especially Junie) are really, _really_ sorry for the delay in posting this. School midterms and computer problems take up a lot of time. Hope the extra long chapter makes up for it!


	6. Questions and Answers and Even More Ques

Dislclaimer: We don't own Harry Potter or Anne of Green Gables. Thank goodness. The characters would probably kill us if they found what we'd done to their lives. Or crack slates over our heads.

* * *

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 6

Questions and Answers and Even More Questions

_"When I left Queen's my future seemed to stretch out before me like a straight road. I thought I could see along it for many a milestone. Now there is a bend in it. I don't know what lies around the bend, but I'm going to believe that the best does. It has a fascination of its own, that bend, Marilla."  
_- Anne Shirley; Anne of Green Gables by Lucy Maud Montgomery

* * *

Anne sat in her pajamas at the end of her bed. The rest of her roommates were already sleeping peacefully. Anne was still awake, though, staring blankly at the wall. She had nearly fallen asleep just minutes ago in Dumbledore's warm, comfortable room, but after she had been taken back to the Gryffindor common rooms, she found that she simply could not sleep. She had tried clearing her mind, but annoying thoughts kept pushing into her mind, until she was wide awake.

As long as she was awake, she might as well do something productive, Anne thought. She haltingly tapped one of the books Dumbledore had lent her with her wand as he had instructed her to do so, and nearly screamed when it popped to a normal size. She opened the hefty book and began to read.

Supposedly, the books Dumbledore had lent them were rare editions that he only had a single copy of each. He suggested that they should consider meeting a couple times a week so that they could share information. _As if_ she would willingly spend any more time with Gilbert Blythe than she had to. Anne figured that she would conveniently drop her finished books near Gilbert during breakfast some morning. He would probably do the same.

On page 64, chapter two of "The Arte of Cross-Universal Travelling", by O. T. H. R. U. Neversitas read:

'_Records of various events have shown that the aftereffects of inter-universal travel are fairly similar for all travelers. Conditions include headaches, stomach weakness, hallucinations, and muddled, disorientating dreams. This is most likely due to the cross-dimensional nature of universe travelling, which is a foreign sensation to the human body.'_

'_Rare cases include losses in the ability to do specific skills in magyck, e.g. the ability to apparate.' _Anne read,_ ' Others have gained a supernatural ability. For example, the famous time travel theorist Florence Gerbera claimed to have the ability to grow daisies out of his ears. Unfortunately, he mysteriously expired while trying to perform this feat. Various time travelers have also reportedly grown or lost skeletal or facial features. The infamous goblin Orid the One-Eyed was speculated to have –'_

Anne hastily slammed the book back shut in alarm. She rubbed he eyes tiredly. This was too much to deal with in one night. She would have to find time to do further reading at another point.

Anne fell back on her bed before a sudden wave of homesickness washed over her. Anne couldn't stop thinking about her home in Avonlea; if she would ever be able to go back, if she could ever see her extended family again. She realized with guilt that under the excitement of discovering magic, she hadn't given more than an incomplete thought about her family. She found herself wondering if Gilbert was still awake, being plagued with unwanted thoughts.

Gilbert. And Tom. Gilbert had a family in this world. Although Gilbert didn't know Tom particularly, he had somewhere to call home over vacation and during breaks. Anne knew that she would be living with Tom as well, and it was true that it was logical for the foreign students to live together - but it wasn't the same as having her own family. She suddenly realized with a horrible pang just how lonely she was in this world.

This detour to the Wizarding world was slowly becoming more and more like either a prolonged nightmare, or a crazed dream.

Which was precisely one off Anne's main problems. She couldn't quite decide if magic was good or bad; she couldn't decide whether she'd miss it or not. Some parts about it were so nightmarishly horrifying, while other parts of it were so otherworldly, so fantastical, so – well, _magical._

Marilla had never quite approved of her fanciful imaginings of dryads and fairies and such. She never did more than frown or scold her for whatever she had neglected to do.

But practicing witchcraft, as the stern Sunday services teacher often had told her, was impure. In history, they had briefly touched on witch trials that were held to purge the community of evils. Allegedly, the devil exercised his powers through witchcraft. Many were persecuted and put to death for suspected witchcraft. Taken with the fatal injustice of it all, Anne had pressed her teachers with questions, but they had remained tight lipped, shushing her and telling her off for being overly inquisitive.

The witch trials. Anne shuddered. They had seemed wonderfully haunting and tragic when she had learned about them in Sunday school – but now the stories were too close for comfort.

Anne herself was unsure. Evil was often a great temptation that blinded people, but the entire student body, _plus_ the staff, and Dumbledore couldn't all be promoters of evil, could they? Neville, who didn't have a mean bone in his body, or Hermione, who was so stubborn she figured no one could persuade her otherwise. Yet she still doubted herself.

Now Anne genuinely wished she knew how Matthew, Marilla, and her closest friends would react if she told them she was a witch. Would they love her all the same after a brief period of shock? Or would they shun her for her "unnatural behavior", as was the case with the grandmother of a muggleborn she had overheard? Anne was horrified to realize that the more she contemplated on it, the less certain she was about this answer.

Anne suddenly realized with panic that she had a problem with performing magic. It wasn't that she was physically unable to do it, although she wished that were so. She realized that she was dreadfully uncomfortable with performing anything that could be thought as "witchcraft". Some of the courses she had to take at Hogwarts, however, really didn't require magic at all. For instance, Herbology was a sort of eccentric gardening. Potions similarly was analogous to a bizarre interpretation of cooking. Subjects like Charms and Transfiguration, would be more difficult to work around, though – they truly were magic. Anne groaned. She hardly needed anything like this to further complicate her life.

Anne tensed for a moment when Lavender rolled over in her sleep, and then relaxed.

She couldn't lose hope, Anne decided determinedly. She would just have to stick things out, and deal with troubles as they came. Losing hope wouldn't do her any good- rather, it would probably be quite an insult to Dumbledore.

Keeping a little faith had always proved to be worth its while in Anne's life. After nearly ten years of waiting and hoping she would permanently be adopted by a family (that didn't just want her to look after their three sets of twins), she had finally gotten Matthew and Marilla. When they told her they had wanted a boy instead, she had been devastated. But the whole time, she had held onto a little bit of hope. And it had paid off – she had found a loving, albeit occasionally dysfunctional, family. She supposed that after waiting ten years, this delay wouldn't be so horribly long to wait out.

Anne decided to stay optimistic.

Anne's exhausted body finally decided to shut down, and she soon fell into a fitful sleep, full of hazy images fire and nightmarish scenes of angry people chasing her with pitchforks and flaming torches.

* * *

Gilbert woke up the next morning with an extremely nasty headache. He had been getting them ever since he'd accidentally set off that time-turner. It was quite a nuisance.

Maybe it was a side effect of the traveling between dimensions thing-he really should have taken a look at those books. Or Anne's books. On second thought, he doubted he'd set eyes on Anne's books ever again.

It was very early in the morning, probably about six-thirty or so. Oh no! Wasn't he supposed to meet someone somewhere at seven? Groggily, he racked his brains to remember. Strangely enough, he didn't remember any of last night. All he remembered was dropping dead with exhaustion the other night—which was probably why he was still wearing his uniform. Was memory loss another symptom? He doubted it; His mother had always said that he was remarkably heedless and forgetful even for a boy. But lately, he'd been forgetting things more and more often.

He remembered now. He was supposed to go somewhere at seven. To meet Professor… Cabbage? No, that couldn't be right. This was really getting annoying. Maybe it really _was_ a symptom…

Somehow, he was able to dress in the dark and attempted to leave the dormitory. Drowsily, he somehow managed to trip over something he _thought_ was Ron's sock and fell headlong down the stairs.

Suddenly, there was a rush of information into his brain as he hit his head on the wall. _Burbage… third floor… carrot cake… Gryffindor! _Gilbert winced, rubbing his head. Now this was truly creepy. He made up his mind to ask Professor Burbage about this… right after he found out what a telly was.

After asking for directions from an upperclassman, and a few mishaps with some staircases that refused to move to where he wanted to go, Gilbert made it to Burbage's office. He opened the door to see a pleasant-looking, round room, with the professor sitting behind her desk amid a storm of parchment.

"Oh! You're a bit early, Gilbert, but that's all right," she said with pleasant surprise. She looked a little distracted. "Just give me a moment. _Accio!" _A piece of parchment the length of his forearm whizzed through the floating mass into her hands. With another wave of her wand, the papers all settled into various heaps on her desk. Professor Burbage rummaged under one stack, located a pair of reading glasses, put them firmly on her nose, and stared at her paper.

"Have you been having any strange feelings?" she asked without preamble. "Nausea, memory lapses, headaches, extreme fatigue…" The professor glanced with amusement at Gilbert's rather rumpled robes at that last comment.

"All four," Gilbert answered, slightly bemused.

"Ah. Well, hopefully that'll wear off. You'll have to see Madam Pomfrey as soon as possible, of course. Anything especially strange?" She lifted a quill from her disorganized desk and marked a large slash.

"Er… I forgot nearly everything that happened yesterday when I woke up this morning, but then I fell down the stairs and suddenly I remembered everything."

Professor Burbage looked at him in concern over her round glasses, which made her rather resemble an owl. "That _is_ rather strange. _Definitely_ Madam Pomfrey." She made another slash on her parchment. "Now-" she began.

Abruptly, the door of the office burst open with bang like a gun going off, and a certain redhead tumbled into the room, panting.

"Sorryimlate," Anne spilled out. "_talking-"_

"Calm down, dear," Professor Burbage said kindly. "Sit down." She gestured at the chair beside Gilbert. Anne plopped down in the chair, her hair drifting up and beginning to escape its two neat braids.

"Now, Could you repeat that? _Slowly_,"

Anne took a deep breath. "Well, I was looking at the portrait of these lovely girls, and I commented aloud on the dress, andthentheystarted_talking_tome_-"_

Professor Burbage interrupted, "Talking portraits are normal for the Wizarding world," She said guiltily, "I don't know why I didn't tell you this before."

Gilbert stared. How had Anne missed all the portraits while they were walking back to the Gryffindor tower?

"Now that both of you are here," Burbage began with amusement. Anne turned almost as red as her hair. Burbage looked at her parchment again. "Ah. Anne, have you been having any odd symptoms? Nausea, headache…"

"No…" Anne said slowly. "But – it's all so confusing-" She stopped herself mid-sentence, catching herself before she went on another rant.

"Go on, dear," Burbage said encouragingly. "What's confusing?"

Anne looked as if she were about to spill over with unanswered questions. "Well – how does the food get to the tables?" asked Anne. She sounded at least as confused as had become the norm for Gilbert to be feeling. "And – where do the rest of the houses everyone else sleep?"

"There are three other common rooms. The Slytherin one is somewhere in the dungeons, but I'm not sure where the others are," Burbage mused, "The founders were rather secretive. They're all password-protected like yours. As for the food – it's magic. There's not really any other way to explain it…"

"Why do we drink pumpkin juice? Wouldn't it be easier to have a more common fruit juice? How would we have enough pumpkins?" Anne questioned.

"Well, our groundskeeper is rather talented at growing pumpkins," said Professor Burbage. "Just wait until November – they're massive. We have pumpkins so that we can have juice from home- grown plants all year round. They're the easiest thing to grow in Professor Sprout's greenhouses, because her other magical plants won't try to eat them."

"Oh." said Anne. She immediately followed up with another question, leaving Gilbert with no room to interrupt. "Then – the staircases," Anne interjected, "Is that – magic, too? What kind of magic does it use?"

"Everything here is magic," Burbage answered, "I'm not entirely sure what kind of magic is used to make them move, but you might be able to find out at the library. Speaking of the library, do you know where that is?"

Anne nodded. The Ravenclaw prefect who had directed her to Burbage's office had decided to make good use of the time, and showed her places along the way.

"Good," said Burbage. "Maybe you could show Gilbert sometime." Anne struggled to not to make a face.

"How are we to get to classes? Do all Gryffindor first years have the same schedule?" Anne was now in full interrogation mode. "And – do we have to write with quills?"

"You'll find that most people prefer to write with quills, but no, it isn't required that you do. However, the huge amount of magic at Hogwarts tends to mess up the mechanics of Muggle items like pencils. One girl had a rather messy incident with an exploding ink pen…" Professor Burbage frowned. "You can probably get directions from older students, but you're probably better off asking prefects. Some of the upperclassmen are a bit too mischievous. You will have the same classes with all the first years in your house. As for schedules, you will be getting timetables at breakfast, as you will every time schedules change," Burbage responded patiently. She looked as though she wasn't exactly sure how to deal with Anne. Gilbert was rather impressed. Though he supposed that made sense, since normally her job would be to teach wizards about Muggles rather than Muggle-borns about magic.

Gilbert took the very brief pause in the conversation as an opportunity. "Er… sorry for being off topic, but… what's a 'telly'?"

Burbage blinked. "It's a Muggle thing, a sort of box that shows moving pictures that tell a story," she explained, "Like a portrait, kind of. Only it's not magical."

Suddenly, a clock behind them started hopping up and down shouting "Breakfast!" in a squeaky voice, and Gilbert nearly toppled out of his chair in alarm.

"Oh, look at the time!" said Burbage with apparent surprise. She began rummaging through messy piles of papers again, "You'd both best be going down to breakfast," she said over her shoulder, "If you've got anymore questions, just stop by any time. Gilbert, do try to stop by Madam Pomfrey's afterwards. Cheerio!"

Gilbert followed Anne out and down the stairs again, though he took pains to take a different route than she did. This had certainly been informative. Whether it hadn't created more questions than it answered remained to be seen.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all so much for reviewing! It means a lot to both of us. :)

To:

**LivingInTheClouds** : Those are interesting thoughts – we hadn't thought of that. Most likely though, Anne wouldn't be related to Harry. It'd probably get a little confusing – Harry would start wondering why his great-great aunt or whatever looked like and had the same name as Anne. The Blythe couple were definitely time travelers (or attempting to), but I don't think the Shirleys ever met them.

**ariedling****: **Thanks! Dumbeldore might not get her puffed sleeves, but I'll bet Anne's going to get them one way or another. Or get attatched to some other newfangled fad. Whichever comes first.

Yes, Anne hasn't had very good luck with families, has she? Don't worry, though. Anne has always had a good reputation for being lovable.

**random reviewer on a bender: **This review was very helpful and constructive. You were right when you said we were moving too fast – we suppose we just got a little overexcited. :D We hope the last few chapters have fixed that, and possibly added in some conflict and drama?

**Kiki: **The insanity of it all really helps our story stay creative. :)

**Dontmezwitme****:** Thank you! If it wouldn't be too much trouble, could you point us to the kind of spelling errors? Would they be Harry Potter/ Anne of Green Gables related spelling mistakes? Or just general spelling issues?


	7. First Morning

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 7

First Morning

* * *

_"Marilla, isn't it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?" Said by Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables_

* * *

Anne finally entered the Great Hall for breakfast, after getting slightly confused with all the staircases, trying her best to avoid the talking portraits (which, truthfully, scared her a bit), and tripping over a few trick stairs. She was still quite early – the talk with Professor Burbage hadn't taken as long as she thought it would have. So it was to her surprise that Hermione was already at the breakfast table, sitting primly with a book in one hand, and a half eaten piece of toast in the other.

"Hermione!" Anne exclaimed, as she sat herself next to her, "What are you doing up so early?"

"Having breakfast of course," she replied. "It wouldn't do to be late on the first day of school." Her eyes remained glued to the hardcover book that was in her hands.

"Ah, Miss Shirley," said Professor McGonagall, handing Anne a small square of parchment, "Your timetable."

"But, Hermione," said Anne hesitantly after the professor left, "There's more than an hour before our first class starts."

Hermione looked at her strangely. "So? Percy says the staircases and doors and such can be quite tricky on the first day—it'll probably take us a while before we can find our class. Anyway, it's better to be early an hour and prepared, than late a minute and not, I always say."

Just then, Ron, Harry, and Gilbert tumbled into the Great Hall and plopped themselves unceremoniously at the Gryffindor table. They looked tousled, and had clearly just woken up minutes ago. Gilbert had obviously managed to get sleepier during his walk to the Gryffindor Tower- his head was lolling dangerously close to the mountain of scrambled eggs Ron had already piled on his plate. _Strange_, thought Anne,_ he was awake just a while ago_. Harry was more awake, but he didn't seem to be registering what he was putting in his mouth.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, as if to say, _see what I mean?_

"By the way, Anne, where were you this morning?"

* * *

Hermione prided herself on her abilities to multitask. A short while after she learned to read, she found that she could also read while doing various tasks – eating, listening, walking. After convincing her parents that _no, _she would _not_ accidentally get herself hit by a car, mutitasking became a sort of habit. As much as people were doubtful, Hermione could be surprisingly observant while she was reading. And she definitely could tell Anne was acting strangely lately - strange even for her.

Lately, she had been acting mysteriously – disappearing after dinner last night and then again in the morning. Hermione was burning with curiosity - she wanted to know what was troubling Anne. And Hermione strongly disliked such questions without knowing their answers. When Anne showed up at breakfast, however, Hermione could tell she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep. She decided that questioning Anne at length could wait for another time.

But she still couldn't resist just one question –

"By the way, Anne, where were you this morning?"

Anne gave a vague answer about a meditcal testing with Pomfrey that told Hermione absolutely nothing at all. But Hemione could tell that Anne was clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

So Hermione changed the subject for her. She asked if she could come along for the medical examination, because her parents were doctors, and she was interested about how medicine was practiced in the Wizarding World. And she truly was interested. Anne said yes, before her eyes lit up, leaping into a story involving talking portraits, staircases and the like. Hermione returned to her book while listening to Anne's now familiar story-telling fashion - partly rant and partly her personal musings – before two key phrases caught her attention.

"—library – second floor-"

Hermione peered at Anne over her book. "You know where the library is?" she said, fighting to keep the excitement out of her voice.

Anne stopped mid sentence. "Well, yes."

"We've still got an hour left," Hermione said thoughtfully, "Charms is on the same floor, and Percy says it's fairly straightforward to get to. We'll probably have extra time." She was almost already out of her seat. The library! She hoped it was big, with lots of interesting books.

"But," Anne said hesitantly, "What about making sure we aren't late to class?"

"This is the _library,_" Hermione said, brimming with enthusiasm. "Which is more important, checking out the library or sitting around for a while until we go to class?"

Anne chose, for once, not to reply to Hermione's self-contradiction. The girl had a strange way of prioritizing things.

After a long pause, the two girls looked at each other before saying simultaneously, "Library."

* * *

The library lived up to all of their wildest hopes and dreams. It was big enough to satisify Hermione, with books on almost every magical subject imaginable. She made a beeline for a special edition of _Hogwarts, a History,_ and then immediately went to search out Madam Pince to borrow it. Anne browsed a little longer while waiting for Hermione to return, letting her hand slide over the volumes.

Her finger caught on a slim, dark green book. Anne slipped it out and saw the title, _The Fay Folk: Myths and Reality. _Fay Folk! Fairies! She opened it to the first page and began to read, her eyes glued after the first paragraph.

"Anne? ANNE!" Hermione waved her hand under Anne's nose. She didn't respond, response except move it even closer to her face so she could continue reading. Hermione reached under it and tweaked Anne's nose.

"Ouch!" Anne exclaimed, turning a wrathful glare on Hermione that could rival the look Madame Pince was shooting them for being noisy.

"We're going to be late!" Hermione whispered fiercely back. "We've got to go!"

Regretfully, Anne stuck the book back on the shelf, though not without memorizing its place.

Now it was time to go to her first classes. What would they be like? Anne wasn't sure if she was looking forward to them, but she was certainly full of anticipation.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for being so patient with us!

Again, thanks much for the reviews. Please tell us if you see any blaring mistakes in the story. :)

_ME: Thanks! We're trying hard to update quickly. Oops – Junie named Anne's father Andrew temporarily, until she found out his name was Walter. Guess the revision never made it to the final copy. Thanks for pointing that out! _

_ariedling: Thanks! We hope you'll like the new updates._

_luvbooks: Thank you! We're trying to update more quickly now, but we've got schoolwork to contend with. Hopefully the next few chapters, which we intend to post within the next few days, will make up for the lag. :D_

_random reviewer on a bender: Thanks. We hope that you like Anne's latest scrapes. ;)_


	8. First Classes

A/N: Wow. This is really behind schedule. Ah well.. enjoy!

* * *

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 8

First Classes

* * *

_It seems as if I must be in a dream. Do you know, my arm must be black and blue from the elbow up, for I've pinched myself so many times today. Every little while a horrible sickening feeling would come over me and I'd be so afraid it was all a dream. Then I'd pinch myself to see if it was real-until suddenly I remembered that even supposing it was only a dream I'd better go on dreaming as long as I could; so I stopped pinching. But it IS real."_ Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables

* * *

Anne was astounded at the size of Hogwarts. She said to Hermione, numerous times, that the inside was even more magnificent than the outside. "142 staircases!" she'd exclaim somewhat randomly. "And they're all _different_!" Some with trick steps, some that changed direction, some that seemed to appear out of nowhere – Anne was actually somewhat frightened by the staircases of Hogwarts.

Anne was also having some other issues. Specifically, she had been seized by a sudden and debilitating bout of homesickness. Until now, she had completely believed that she'd be back in Green Gables very soon. However, attending all of her classes where the teachers dropped the phrase "for the rest of the school year" very liberally in their opening lectures abruptly brought it home that she might be here a very, very long time.

Hermione was also very impressed by Hogwarts, though she did not share Anne's tendency to stand in place mesmerized by the movement of the staircases for hours on end. Instead, she occupied herself with trying to remember which staircases had trick steps and which way all of the staircases went. It turned out to be rather more difficult than she had first thought, especially because the staircases with trick steps were prone to moving just when she figured them out. Hermione swore to herself that she'd get them all straight if it took a _diagram_ to do it.

The most impressive thing about Hogwarts, Gilbert thought, was that despite its great size, he still managed to run into the same people with amazing regularity. He wasn't thinking time during classes, but rather the time afterwards. If he went to the library to look for something, Anne and Hermione would probably be there. If he decided to go walk around the lake, Anne apparently had made the same decision.

His other problem was more academically related. He just couldn't do Transfiguration. Not wouldn't or refused to, but plainly _couldn't_. And it frustrated him to no end. He repeated the spell word for word and syllable for syllable, and did the wand movements almost exactly – with no result. Professor McGonagall said that sometimes it took some students a bit more time to get used to the kind of magic Transfiguration was, because it altered the properties of an object completely. But he could tell she was getting little worried after everyone in the class – even Ron, who had nearly decapitated both him and Harry in the process - had mastered turning a matchstick into a needle except him. His medical test with Madame Pomfrey was scheduled to be soon. Maybe he would have answers then. Luckily, he hadn't had any strange memory lapses since the first one. This probably had something to do with the fact that he'd been carefully avoiding head trauma ever since.

Ron, having heard stories from his brothers, was probably the least impressed of all of them. However, that wasn't saying much, as Ron was still prone to shout "Blimey!" whenever he was outside the castle and looked back at it. He also shouted loudly whenever a staircase unexpectedly moved, which happened to him quite often since he didn't pay attention to their patterns.

After a few days at Hogwarts, Harry concluded that it was a strange and wonderful place. Ghosts could teach classes, and staircases could _move_? The other issue was the wizards themselves. Before Hogwarts, He'd been an ordinary kid with glasses. Now he was the Boy-who-Lived, and too many other fancy titles with excessive hyphens and capital letters. At times he felt strangely like the boa constrictor he'd accidentally set off at the zoo, with all the extra attention and the stares he was drawing from people. He wasn't sure what to make of Hogwarts- admittedly, the school was rather confusing to navigate, and the singing suits of armor were rather off-key (or was that Peeves?), but there was still that thrill that came every time he experienced magic. It really was _real_. For a rare time, Harry truly felt like he belonged at somewhere. Hogwarts was beginning to feel like home.

* * *

Until Friday, Anne had been managing to actually enjoy Hogwarts.

Astronomy was fascinating - she loved learning about the mythology behind all the stars, and Wizarding mythology was quite a different variation from the traditional Greek and Roman versions she had learned in school. Anne wasn't quite sure if Hercules would have appreciated sharing a constellation with Batrandus the Brutal, apparently, was a genius at ancient alchemy and potions. He was the blood- and-gore type of guy, and could make potions that could make you burn from the inside, that could rip you to pieces, and even change the color of your organs every few seconds (this was a rather unfortunate mistake – but that was another myth). Most notably, he fueled the unimaginably painful poison for Hercules' arrows. Anne figured they probably didn't get along very well up there in the sky.

Herbology was fun-it reminded her of gardening, although it was slightly more hazardous. The plants in the greenhouse had a strange way of wrapping themselves around students when they weren't noticing – Neville in particular.

The initial shock of having a _ghost _teach History soon wore off after a couple of days. Students quickly lost interest after they realized the monotone Professor Binns spoke in was permanent. Anne wasn't sure if letting Binns teach past his retirement age was a good idea—within the time span of an hour he had managed to get Anne mixed up with Hermione, and had called Anne various forms of the names: Anna Shire, Annie Sherry, and Anya Leery.

History of Magic may have been boring, but she could talk to Hermione without anyone noticing, since nearly everyone was asleep, and Professor Binns really didn't notice anything. At least he still had his creativity with all the names he managed to come up with in a day.

Charms was amazing since it was what she had always imagined magic to be. After the rather impromptu discussion with Professor Burbage, Anne felt a lot better about magic. She supposed those Muggles must have made a mistake. Yet she still had little qualms about performing magic – she never held a charm for more than a few seconds, and she wasn't sure it she was able to.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had a very interesting textbook, though the same couldn't be said of the professor. Professor Quirrell was an extremely nervous man, stuttering and fumbling his way through class. By the end, Anne doubted that any more than half the class left understanding a complete thought by the end. Anne figured she and Hermione would just have to practice a lot on their own.

Transfiguration had an absolutely_ amazing_ teacher (even though she was quite strict).

And it was quite amusing seeing the faces of Ron, Harry, and Gilbert after Professor McGonagall transformed from a tabby before their eyes.

But there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind that she shouldn't get too attached to this place since she _would_ soon be home in Avonlea again. She refused to believe otherwise. She had decided to consider this an extended 'holiday', but she couldn't help missing Diana and Matthew and Marilla – it was horribly ironic that the one person from Avonlea she _wouldn't_ miss was here with her.

Anne noticed that she got tired a lot more easily, and that pumpkin juice made her feel rather queasy. She supposed these were aftereffects of time travelling, or just her body getting used to magic. Either way, she hoped they would go away with time. Or that she'd be home soon.

Overall, she'd had a decent week, considering the strange circumstances.

Friday suddenly changed all that, and made Anne extremely annoyed.

For starters, Professor Snape ridiculed Hermione in their first Potions class. Well, actually, he made fun of all the Gryffindors. But most of all, he excessively ridiculed Harry, and had unecessarily pulled Hermione in too for good measure. She thought that she might have liked Harry if it wasn't for his extremely annoying and simply hateful friends.

The next thing that went wrong was rather more catastrophic.


	9. The Flying Squid Incident

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 9

The Flying Squid Incident

* * *

"_I wouldn't go out with you if it was a choice between you and the ____giant squid."__ Lily Potter, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._

* * *

All in all, it had been a terrible Friday. Anne had dubbed it "the Flying Squid Incident", and stubbornly refused to call it anything else. Even though, as Hermione said, it was a very misleading title. Anne felt that such a terribly dramatic event needed a fittingly dramatic title. And the horrendous thought of flying Giant Squids summed up the disaster of Friday very well.

* * *

Anne and Hermione were sitting by the lake and studying just before dinner. Or rather, Hermione was studying and Anne was staring dreamily at the lit castle.

"Isn't it magnificent?" Anne said rapturously.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. Do you remember the incantation for that spell we learned in Transfiguration today? I _swear_ I had it written in my notes, but I can't find it…"

"Fereverto," Anne replied dreamily, continuing to gaze at the castle. She stood up and took a few steps forward to get a better look. She was nearly in the water. Hermione could see the huge, shiny butterfly clip that she was wearing in her hair fluttering as she waded a few feet into the water without regard for her shoes or the bottom of her robes.

"Anne, you'd better come back," she called. "I heard from Fred and George Weasley that there was some sort of squid –"

Hermione looked up just in time to see Anne dragged into the water by some sort of tentacle. She shrieked loudly, dropped all of her papers and books unceremoniously on the ground, and ran towards Hagrid's hut, which was on the other side of the lake, near the castle. "Help!" she screamed. "Somebody, help!"

The squid was fascinated by the bright shiny thing it had seen. It was so sparkly! So the squid grabbed it and pulled it down, when it came close enough to the lake.

The problem was, the shiny thing was attached to another, much larger, and not at all shiny thing that seemed to be alive. It was certainly wiggling and squirming a lot.

So the squid raised one of its smaller tentacles to detach the shiny thing from the alive-not-shiny thing. He then tossed the bothersome, squirming not-shiny thing back out of the water. It then retreated to the depths of the lake to play with its new toy.

Anne couldn't swim. Understandably, she was terrified when the squid dragged her under the water. She opened her mouth to scream, and just as she realized her mistake, a huge gulp of water forced its way down her throat.

Just as quickly, before she could recover from her choking fit, a pair of tentacles seized her around the waist. And to her horror, tentacles lifted her higher, higher, above the surface of the water, and then –simply tossed her out.

Being thrown _out_ of the water was even more disorientating - she had no idea what happening. A wave of panic overtook her as she began spiraled rapidly downward.

Anne instinctively grabbed onto the first solid thing she touched as she plummeted, which turned out to be a tree branch overhanging the lake. She hung there for a few moments, gasping, trying make sense of what had just happened.

She looked down and realized that she shouldn't have almost immediately. The drop-off here was much steeper than on the other side of the lake. She _definitely_ couldn't swim that far, even if she did survive the drop.

She waited for the feeling of terror that never came. Somewhere between being thrown in the air and her descent, a strange calm had taken over her. Her mind froze; she couldn't think about anything. Somewhere in the back of her mind, something was telling her that she _should _be shrieking. She surveyed her situation. Using magic wasn't an option-both of her hands were currently occupied with holding on for dear life. Letting go and trying to wade to shore was not an option. She couldn't gain enough momentum to swing herself onto land, either. She didn't suppose anyone would be able to hear her this far from the castle, either, her voice would not carry far. The only thing she could do was hang there and wait.

Anne desperately hoped that Hermione would come with help soon. The lake water was cold, and the fall winds weren't much warmer. She didn't know how much longer she could hold on for; her arms were already tiring.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Gilbert were walking down to Hagrid's hut. It was amazing how quickly you made friends when you were all living in dorms together, thought Gilbert. Already, people talked about Harry-and-Ron-and-Gilbert and Dean-and-Seamus as single units. Poor Neville was a little left out.

Gilbert rifled through his bag before realizing something. "You two go ahead," said Gilbert, turning to Harry and Ron. ""I'll meet you at Hagrid's hut, alright?" He turned back to the lake hastily. It would appear that he had left his history textbook there.

Gilbert ran back towards the lake to retrieve his forgotten textbook. Just a while ago, he, Harry, and Ron had been studying (or pretending to study) there. He dearly hoped that his book was still dry—although he was fairly certain Professor Binns wouldn't notice if he showed up with a potions textbook, much less if it was wet or not.

Splashes of water on his head interrupted Gilbert's ramblings. He looked up, and wished he didn't see what he saw there. An unmistakable, red-haired figure dangling from a tree overlooking the lake. He gaped in shock. What on _earth_ had Anne done? He ran towards her as fast as he could.

"Anne Shirley," Gilbert said out of breath, once he reached her. "What are you doing here?"

She was drenched in water. Anne's eyes were a bit glassy, but Gilbert could clearly tell she did not look very happy to see him. Hesitating a moment, she said in a faraway tone, "Fishing for lake trout."

"Lake trout?" Gilbert repeated, now extremely confused. "There aren't any fish in the Hogwarts lake, only the giant squid."

Anne glared down, her face as red as her hair. She was shivering. Gilbert's eyes widened as he realized that she needed his help.

"Here," he said. "You swing and jump, and I'll catch you."

Now it was Anne's turn to look confused. "Catch me?" she repeated.

"With magic," he replied, taking a step forward and pulling out his wand.

"Magic? What if you drop me? I don't want to fall in the water. I can't swim." Anne said faintly, in a voice that was unsettlingly without panic. There was obviously something amiss. Anne hadn't insulted him once, nor was she screaming as someone just feet away from her death probably should be. Gilbert wasn't sure he wanted to know how frantic Anne truly was feeling, if she was acting like this.

"Don't worry," he said, trying to sound more sure of himself than he was. "Just jump."

Anne looked resigned, but she did as he had said. Just as she was letting go of the branch, Gilbert shouted the charm he had read about in his textbook earlier. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Anne hovered in the air for a moment, drifting towards him. Then she fell right on top of him, as Gilbert lost his concentration. Somehow, he managed to keep either of them from falling into the lake.

Anne detangled herself. She finally snapped. She shrieked, "Gilbert Blythe, what in heaven's name were you thinking? You could have gotten us both killed! Don't you know better than to try a spell on a _moving_ target? And we haven't even tried that spell in class—you-"

She stopped, and realized she was shaking.

Obviously, the calm and collected trance that held Anne while she had been dangling dangerously on a tree branch dissapated once the threat had passed.

"Anne-?"

She mustered all the dignity she had left, and trying to keep her voice steady she said, "Thank you, Mr. Blythe. Now I really must be going. I'm very much obliged to you."

"Anne," he said hurriedly, catching her soaking arm before she could leave. "Look here. Can't we be good friends? I'm awfully sorry I made fun of your hair that time. I didn't mean to vex you and I only meant it for a joke. Besides, it's so long ago...I think your hair is awfully pretty now-honest I do. And I'm sorry about the whole business with the time turner. I didn't mean for anything to happen. Please, let's be friends."

Anne seemed to hesitate for a moment, but that might have been Gilbert's imagination. "No," she said stiffly. "I shall never be friends with you, Gilbert Blythe, and I don't want to be!" She broke free of his grasp, and ran towards the castle, leaving a trail of water behind her.

Now Gilbert was angry too. He was never going to be friends with Anne; he may as well resign himself to it. "All right! I'll never ask you to be friends again, Anne Shirley. And I don't care either!" He stormed off towards Hagrid's hut, muttering darkly under his breath.


	10. The Day Before the Incident

Moonstruck Madness: Chapter 10

The Day Before the Incident

_"Why were you lurking under our window?"  
"Yes - yes, good point, Petunia! What were you doing under our windows, boy?"  
"Listening to the news," said Harry in a resigned voice.  
His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage.  
"Listening to the news! Again?"  
"Well, it changes every time, you see," said Harry._

_~Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

* * *

"Anne, are you alright? You look a bit green."

"It must be a Friday," Harry heard Anne mutter to Hermione after a particularly grueling Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

He wondered if he wasn't the only one getting headaches from Professor's Quirrell's class. Truth be told, the man seemed scared of his own shadow, and his stutter made his teaching sound unconvincing. And there was something about that room that left Harry with a pounding head after the hour was over.

Ron and Gilbert stumbled out of the classroom behind Harry.

"Arabian prince my foot," Ron grumbled. "There's enough garlic in that thing to make his breath stink for the rest of his life."

Gilbert suddenly jumped in realization. He started running towards the west wing of Hogwarts, calling over his shoulder, "You guys go ahead, I'll be back in a jiffy!"

"Hey—mate, where're you going off to? Lunch starts in a ten minutes!"

Gilbert was already out of sight.

Harry sighed. Gilbert had been acting rather off ever since that day he got back from the lake. Actually, he'd been acting pretty strangely ever since their first classes. The minute they'd get out of class, he'd be extremely tired, which proved to be rather problematic. Just the other day, he'd tried to cut his dinner with the wrong end of his knife.

_"Eh—Gilbert?"_

_"What is it?" he asked blearily. He was struggling to keep his eyes open._

_"Erm—I don't think you're doing that right, Gilbert," said Harry cautiously._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I don't think you're supposed to cut that with the handle..."_

_Gilbert blinked in apparent surprise. He stared at his knife with a bemused expression. "Oh."_

Of course, that incident didn't escape Professor McGonagall's eyes, and she started watching him closely all throughout the meal. She had been doing that more often lately.

Granted, Hogwarts itself was pretty out of the ordinary, but lately, things just didn't seem to be quite right. Everyone seemed to be on edge. For some reason, Harry had a bad feeling about the upcoming Halloween feast.

But things had really started getting progressively stranger and more mysterious since that first day of classes…

* * *

Ron banged against the unyielding door frustratedly. "Darn it! Open, won't you?" It refused to budge. "Please?" he tacked on hopefully.

Harry asked uncertainly, "Ron, are you sure this is the right way?"

"Well, I _think_ this is the second floor. Besides, we've been wandering around for half an hour, and this is the only door we've come across!" Come on already, we—need—to—get—to-class!" Each word was punctuated with a kick to the door. Ron crumpled up a square of parchment in his fist. "I bet this was all a bluff," he muttered darkly, "I'm going to kill Fred and George—"

"_Trespassing_, are we?"

The three boys spun around to find Filch and Mrs. Norris. The cat eyed the trio with a nasty glint in her eyes.

"Oh my, rebellious little first years, I see. Think the third floor corridor restriction is below you, do you?" he said unpleasantly.

Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. "…Third floor?" he mumbled sheepishly.

The caretaker cackled with apparent glee to find that first years were _already _in trouble. He began an escalating tirade about the excrutiatingly painful methods of discipline he could induce, before he frowned, suddenly. "As it is, old Dumbledore wouldn't approve. But," his eyes lit up again with more than a hint of malicious intent, "I _could _give you detentions. In fact, I'll oversee them myself-" The trio gulped.

"Mr. P-P-Potter? Mr. Weasley? Mr. B-Blythe? S-shouldn't you already b-be in class?" Professor Quirrell approached the group of four in surprise.

"Professor Quirrell!" Harry cried in relief.

"These three were caught trying to sneak into the out-of-bounds corridor during class time! They should at least by penalized with a detention—"

"We told you, we got lost! We didn't know this was the third floor corridor!"

"You think I'd fall for that? I know your type—sneaky little brats—"

"W-well then I d-don't see the p-problem," Quirrell interjected nervously. "T-these three s-simply g-got lost. A-anyhow, they d-didn't manage t-to get p-past the door. N-no harm done, eh, A-Argus?"

"But, Professor Quirrell! these trespassers were _clearly_ breaking the rules-!"

"C-come a-along now, boys," Professor Quirrell stuttered. He herded Gilbert, Harry, and Ron onto a narrow staircase. Harry let out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding.

The moving staircase settled onto the floor with a thump, and Quirrell squeaked frightfully. "J-just down that hall, t-to the right." Quirrell directed, once the staircase had stopped moving.

"Thank you, Professor," Gilbert said gratefully.

Gilbert turned to get off the narrow staircase, but ended up accidentally trodding on Harry's foot instead.

"Oh, sorry, Harry—"

Harry's overfilled bag lost hold of the telescope they were going to use that night. In vain, Harry tried to reach for it before the telescope could slip his fingers, but it was too late.

Harry cringed in anticipation, waiting for the sickening crash at the end of the telescope's descent.

But he never saw the telescope plummet over the side of the staircase, nor did he hear the sound of breaking glass and metal parts they expected.

Professor Quirrell caught the telescope in one hand with surprising agility. He offered the textbook back to Harry with a shaky smile.

Ron looked impressed. "Nice snag, Professor!"

The Professor stuttered in answer, "S-second door to the r-right. S-see you all s-soon," As he left the trio, he wrung his hands worriedly as if he'd rather hide under a rock instead of teaching his first class of the year.

"Strange man he is," Ron said, as they ran for the Transfigurations classroom. "People say he hasn't been the same since he came back from some expedition in Romania."

Harry's brows furrowed in deep thought. When his hand had brushed against Quirrell's for a split second, he had felt a sharp, painful twinge in his forehead—not unlike the feeling during the opening feast.

"Come on, Harry! Hurry up already! Professor McGonagall will blow her top if she sees we're late!" called Gilbert.

They raced into the classroom, and to their relief, found no angry professor to berate then.

Ron panted. "We made it. McGonagall hasn't gotten here yet."

Hermione, who was seated next to where Harry was standing, said in a know-it-all voice, "Well, actually—"

She was stopped by Anne, who placed a hand on her arm, shaking her head. Harry was suddenly very aware of the grey cat sitting primly on Professor McGonagall's desk. She had silver markings around her face, like spectacles.

"Can you imagine the look on old McGonagall's face if we were late?"

Suddenly, the cat leaped off the desk, transforming into a somewhat irate Professor McGongall.

Gilbert's eyes bugged out of its sockets, and Ron seemed equally awed.

He gasped, "That was bloody brilliant!"

The professor answered sternly, "Mind your language please, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps it would be more helpful if I were to transfigure Mr. Potter, Mr. Blythe and yourself into alarm clocks? That way, one of you might be on time."

"Sorry, Professor, we got lost." Gilbert said apologetically.

She peered at the three over her spectacles. Harry had the feeling that it wouldn't be a smart decision to cross Professor McGonagall. "Then perhaps a map? I don't suppose you need one to find your seats." The Slytherin half of the class tittered.

The three boys took their seats as quickly as possible. The class was sharply divided in the middle – Gryffindors on the right, Slytherins on the left. Ron and Harry sat together at the table beside Hermione and Anne on the Gryffindor side, reluctantly leaving Gilbert to sit alone on the Slytherin side. The only unoccupied desk was unfortunately situated right in front of Malfoy and one of his goons. Ron turned around in his seat, sheepishly mouthing 'sorry'.

With a sharp rap from the front of the classroom, their first Transfigurations class started.

* * *

After McGonagall gave a strict warning to the class, she gave a demonstration by changed her desk into a pig and back again. Gilbert very impressed and were eager to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time.

After taking a lot of very theoretical and complicated notes, each student was given a match and was told to try turning it into a needle. Gilbert eyed his match skeptically. Ron chanted the incantation, hazardously waving his wand around straight at his match, but with no result. He repeated the incantation, with a similar lack of result. Ron made a frustrated noise.

"You have to _picture_ it," Gilbert heard Hermione instruct him impatiently, after dodging Ron's flailing arm. "Imagine the needle." Obviously, there was a whole lot more to magic than just waving around a stick of wood and saying a silly phrase.

Gilbert closed his eyes, seeing a sharp, thin needle in his mind. He imagined the woody matchstick turning silver, its red tip sharpening to a point. He feel the magic coursing through his wand as he said the incantation, but just as his magic was about to transfigure the matchstick, his power simply shorted out with a disappointing crackling noise. Gilbert frowned.

"Glaring at your matchstick won't transfigure it any faster, Mr. Blythe," said Professor McGonagall, coming up behind him. "Give it another try."

Gilbert obliged, with an even less response from his wand than before.

Professor McGonagall's lips thinned into a frown as well. "See me after class, Mr. Blythe. Meanwhile, keep trying. Visualize it."

By the end of the lesson, Hermione Granger had nearly gotten the entire needle. Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave Hermione a rare smile. Anne had only been a little farther behind —she was only missing the end of her needle. They were the only two to make a substantial progress with their matches. But the entire class had made some progress. Even Neville managed to get his matchstick more rounded. Everyone except Gilbert.

McGonagall had taken his wand after class to inspect, but she found everything in working condition. She told him not to worry, Transfiguration was sometimes difficult to visualize properly– not everyone got it in the first class—and told him to keep practicing.

But Gilbert couldn't help but feeling a little worried. It would be a rather large issue if he couldn't get his magic to respond. He left the Transfiguration classroom with a note from McGonagall to his next teacher, and a troubled expression.

The rest of his classes went without a hiccup, and Gilbert seemed to be able to do magic just fine. Why was Transfiguration being troublesome? He wondered if it had anything to do with the time travelling. He noticed Anne seemed to be reluctant in Charms class, and something seemed to be holding her back.

Before long, Friday rolled around, but of course, the weekend never started without a bang. Friday had been one of _those_ days – one of terrible days you thought couldn't get any worse—and then it did.

* * *

Whispers followed Harry absolutely everywhere. He couldn't turn a corner, eat during meals, or even tie his shoe without someone interrupting him to ask an awkward question, or whisper loudly, "Over there! It's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

One intimidating girl asked him excitedly if he would give her a lock of his hair. She seemed to think it was a vital ingredient in a luck potion. Harry declined with a stammer, despite the fact that she looked like she'd strangle him if he said no.

All the attention was making him feel rather claustrophobic.

He was grateful for Ron and Gilbert, though. They distracted him from his sudden popularity, and he could at least pretend he didn't notice people pointing at him.

It was Friday, and the Gryffindor first years were trying to get to Potions class. The hallway before the staircase down to their classroom was horribly crowded – students were jostling each other, each trying to get to their own classes.

Harry barely noticed when Anne Shirley was sent flying straight at him.

"Oof!" she winced at the impact of the crash. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Harry, I—"

The apology died on her lips when she spotted who he was standing next to. She threw Gilbert an icy look. "My apologies, Mr. Potter," she restated stiffly, before pushing through the crowd with Hermione in her wake.

"Geez, what's got her knickers in a twist?" huffed Ron. "Mate, what did you do to her to get her _that _mad at you?"

"Nothing!" said Gilbert, a little too loudly.

Lavender Brown, whom Harry had noticed had been staring at Gilbert, stared giggling, whispering excitedly with Parvati Patil.

"Hey—Gilbert," Ron nudged him. "I think Lavender's taken an interest in you," he teased.

Gilbert turned red. "Don't be silly, Ron."

Potions lessons took place in one of the lowest levels of Hogwarts - down in one of the dungeons. It was more than a couple of degrees chillier down there than up in the main castle. It was one of the more confusing hallways to navigate – the labyrinth of dark corridors left even the Gryffindors reluctant to explore it.

Not that they could have, anyway. If Professor Snape ever found a Gryffindor was snooping around, he'd kill him for potions ingredients. And then stick him next the the rest of the pickled animals floating in glass jars lined up against walls.

Snape started role call immediately, not waiting for any last minute stragglers.

He worked steadily down the list in a monotone, before pausing at Harry's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said silkily, "Harry Potter. Our new — celebrity."

Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle snickered behind their hands. Snape closed the small booklet with the roll call list with an audible snap. His dark eyes, emotionless eyes scanned the class. Harry refrained from squirming. Those eyes made him think of dark, empty tunnels, of being sucked into oblivion.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began softly. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but in the deafening silence of the classroom, every word could be heard. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... "

Silence continued after Snape's introduction. Harry raised an eyebrow at Ron over his shoulder, who looked equally freaked out. Hermione Granger was nearly jumping out of her seat, seeming desperate to prove herself.

Snape's piercing eyes locked on Harry, and without any sort of prelude, he asked him for the answer to various compounds and ingredients he'd never heard of. At the end of the room, Hermione's hand shot up again and again, stretching as high in the air as it would go. The Slytherins were trying to stifle their laughter.

"One last try. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

…A _what?_ Harry didn't have an inkling of an idea. "I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" He gave Harry a long, contempt look. Harry refused to look away from cold eyes. No matter the fact that he grown up with Muggles, Harry now knew he wasn't especially far behind most of his classmates. He skimmed through his books in what little free time he had at the Dursleys', but did Snape honestly expect him to memorize his cover front-to back? Obviously, Hermione had. She was hovering a couple of inches above her seat, her hand quivering.

"Tut, tut — fame clearly isn't everything, is it now, Mr. Potter?" he leered.

"But I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few brave souls laughed, including Seamus Finnegan, who was sitting next to Ron. He gave Harry an encouraging wink. Snape, however, was less than pleased.

He called Hermione a know-it-all before sharply ordering her back to her seat.

Snape added, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

* * *

"For your information, Potter, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also -"

Sir," Anne Shirley interrupted with a steely expression. "Monkshood and bezoars are in the 5th year curriculum. First years don't study them."

"Be quiet, you insolent girl!" he snapped. "That's another point from Gryffindor."

Her cheeks flaming, Anne looked like she was about to do something she would regret. "Don't—it's not worth it," Hermione whispered quickly to her before she flew off the handle. Anne calmed herself. Hermione was right. But that didn't stop her anger from bubbling at the surface.

Things didn't improve for the as the lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and gave them instructions to making a simple boil-curing potion.

Snape had paired Hermione up with Ron, to their mutual displeasure**, **leaving Anne to work with Neville.

Anne crushed her snake fangs with venom. How could one man be so hateful, so unjust, so unkind? Worst of all, she could just _tell _that he wasn't saying her name with an 'e'. He clearly didn't like children, so why in the world did he bother teaching?

He reminded her unpleasantly of Mr. Phillips. But at least Mr. Phillips had the emotional capacity to make eyes at Prissy Andrews. Professor Snape was simply a cold and unfeeling man. She felt a tiny twinge of sympathy for the Slytherins, but not enough to stop her from being angry. Anne had a sudden, burning desire to lob a cauldron at someone- _anyone_. Snape would be preferable, but that wouldn't go over well—

"Um, Anne?" asked Neville hesitantly.

"What is it?" she answered irritably.

"A-are you alright?" he stammered. He looked concerned.

Anne glanced down at the snake fangs, which she had crushed to a fine powder. She sighed in frustration. It wasn't right to take her anger out on Neville. The poor boy seemed terrified enough of Snape.

"I'm sorry, Neville," she said more gently, "I didn't mean to snap. People are always telling me to think before I talk, but sometimes that's just so difficult to remember, don't you think?"

He offered her a small smile. "D'you think I can add the nettles now?"

He took the potion that he had started while Anne was in her rage, and put it back on the fire. Anne's eyes widened in horror, and pushed Neville's arm away before it could drop in the nettles.

"Oh, Neville! You're not supposed to put the nettles in while it's still boiling! Nettles explode under heat!"

Neville looked paralyzed. "Oh," he squeaked.

"Anyhow," she continued, "We've forgotten the snake fangs—"

Meanwhile, Snape swept around the classroom in his long black cloak, watching them brew the potion, criticizing almost everyone except Malfoy, whom he seemed to favor. Anne had a sneaking suspicion he ordered extra-long cloaks specifically for that purpose.

He had been just telling everyone that Malfoy's perfectly stewed horned slugs were an example for everyone, when clouds of putrid yellow smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon.

Harry and Gilbert's cauldron was a twisted mess, and their potion, which had nearly been the right color momentss ago, was seeping across the floor. The liquid burned through the the soles of Anne's shoes, before she leapt onto a stool. The rest of the class did the same within seconds

Gilbert and Harry had somehow managed to pull themselves out of the way before the potion exploded in their faces.

"Imbeciles!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the nettles before stirring twice?"

"N-No sir," answered Gilbert. "We—"

"Never mind that!" Snape snapped. "Start over. I expect another potion by the end of class if you two want credit."

He glared at Harry suspiciously, seeming to want to say more, but he couldn't very well accuse Harry of foul play while making his own potion.

Gilbert opened his mouth to retort, but Harry nudged him

"Don't push it," he muttered, "I heard Snape can get pretty nasty."

* * *

As they climbed the staircase to the Great Hall an hour later, Harry's spirits were low. They'd collectively lost two points for Gryffindor, and it was only the first week. He and Gil had gotten zeros for the day because they didn't have enough time to finish their potion. What's more, he suspected the Potions accident was no accident at all. And that Snape was fully aware of that. What did Snape have against him?

"Aw-Cheer up, Harry," said Ron, "Snape's always taking points off Fred and George."

"I think Malfoy put something in our cauldron." Gilbert said suddenly. **[1]**

Ron looked at him incredulously. "Malfoy's a git alright, but you have to admit, that's a little far-fetched. How could he have done that? He was sitting on the other side of the room."

"He sat next to me in Transfigurations," he said quietly. "And we used my cauldron. Harry, did you look into our cauldron before we started the potion?"

Harry slapped his forehead. "No," he admitted.

"That jerk!" grumbled Ron. "Shouldn't have expected anything less from a Slytherin. When I get my hands on him-"

"Let's not talk about it, Ron," said Gilbert. "We won't have to see the old bat's face for another week, right? As for Malfoy, we'll come up with something to get him back." He grinned. "You've got pretty darn fast reflexes, Harry. Our Quidditch team will be invincible next year." Gilbert had gotten rather obsessed with the game ever since Ron and introduced it to him.

Then he asked, "Say, Harry, can we meet Hagrid with you?"

* * *

After dinner, Ron, Harry and Gilbert had half an hour before five, when they were scheduled to meet Hagrid. Gilbert was the one to come up with any idea to pass the time.

"Hey, you guys want to come down to the lake with me for a while?"

"Sure," said Ron, "Why the lake?" he asked curiously.

Gilbert shrugged. "Dunno. Reminds me of home, in a way. I used to go fishing a lot."

They sprawled out on the soft grass next to the lake. Gilbert tried to study his history textbook at first, but he gave up after a vicious water war between Harry and Ron started. He joined in, careful to leave his books farther away.

Half an hour later, and with all three boys much wetter than they we re when they had left the building, Harry, Ron, and Gilbert made their way to the grounds where Hagrid lived. After a few minutes of walking, they could see the little hut he lived at, near the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Gilbert rifled through his bag before realizing something. "Oh, fiddlesticks," he muttered. "You two go ahead," said Gilbert, to Harry and Ron. ""I'll meet you at Hagrid's hut, alright?" He turned back to the lake hastily.

"Huh? What's the matter, mate?" asked Ron.

"I left my history textbook at the lake!" he called over his shoulder.

And things started to go plummeting downhill after he found Anne Shirley dangling over the side of the lake.

* * *

**[1]** Why didn't the potion explode sooner? Eh… because Harry and Gil are incredibly slow at cutting ingredients. Or maybe the heat caused it to act up.

* * *

A/N:

We're baaack! Sorry for the _very_ long wait.

We tried to make this chapter largely Harry-centric, for those of you who have commented that he doesn't seem to be a prominent enough character.

Also, there's a bit of Snape here, and expect more in the future. (Just for you, random reviewer on a bender. :P)

**DON'T FORGET to vote on the Moonstruck poll on our profile!**

_Once again, thank you so much to all our reviewers!_

_**random reviewer on a bender:**__ Mentioning the trials wasn't for the purpose of creating drama centering around religion. You're right: Anne was born after the witch trials (and a couple thousand miles north of where they were happening, too), but she has probably had history classes involving them. The reference was just a bit of Anne's wild imagination._

_Yay! you caught the connection in the squid scene. ^.^ Yes, it'd have been a lot more disastrous if Hermione had fainted while she was still __in __the water...  
And we put in Snape! He's kind of a jerk, though...but hopefully, that'll change._

_**justdroppedby:**__ Anne hasn't really gotten that many scenes for herself. But still, she probably should talk more... ah well. There's a lot more opportunities for Anne to go on an Anne-like rant._

_**Aileen Gee:**__ We're working on that, thanks for the tip! But hopefully, we get a little leeway with leaving Harry out a bit because Gil and Anne are the main characters.._

_**Marie Ravenclaw:**__ Sorry, now that we think about it, saying how long we're planning to continue this might actually spoil part of the plot. We're glad you liked the story, though. :)_

_**ariedling: **__haha, why must Snape make a love potion?_

_In a way, Anne kind of goes looking for trouble too - unintentionally._

_**Dontmezwitme:**__ hehe, she almost cracked a caulderon over his head. Don't worry, Anne will get her chance. (It's nice to know other people besides Junie and l00ny love that slate-over-head scene altogether too much. ^.^ )_

_Edit 10/7/12: We made Hermione Ron's partner to make things simpler later, because he'd mysteriously disappeared during that scene for no reason whatsoever. _


	11. The Flying Squid Incident Part 2

Moonstruck Madness: Chapter 11

The Flying Squid Incident Part 2

"_I'd rather walk calmly along and do without the flying and the thud." Marilla,_ Anne of Green Gables

* * *

Miraculously, they'd been able to keep the Flying Squid incident out of Hogwarts' gossip network. Hagrid, however, still didn't quite understand why a harried Hermione had burst into his hut, followed by Gilbert and Anne, who looked even more so. Apparently, for no reason.

Anne eventually explained all that had happened to Hermione, but she was seething, rather shaken, and on the whole, tight-lipped about it for a long while. Hermione finally wheedled the whole story out of Anne just before their first flying lesson.

Hermione's broom was causing her numerous problems. It simply refused to get off the ground – none of the tips her book had suggested were working. Anne's broom came up into her hands nearly as quickly as Ron's and Gilbert's had jumped up. Hermione noted that Harry's broom had been one of the first to rise.

Then Neville went and shot off into the air in panic, fell on his wrist with a nasty crack.

"Broken wrist," Hooch muttered, bending over him. "Come on, up you get."

To the rest of the class, she warned, "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'! Come on, dear."

Neville, his face white and his wrist at an unnatural angle, went off with Madame Hooch to the hospital wing.

Hermione was sorry for him, but she secretly thought that being so nervous always caused problems.

"Shut up, Malfoy." shouted Anne, pulling Hermione out of her musings.

Malfoy ignored her. "Look! It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

"Give that here, Malfoy." Harry said quietly.

Malfoy's two goons whose names Hermione could never remember moved up behind him silently. Ron and Gilbert shifted to flank Harry equally quietly.

Anne immediately turned away from the whole scene, realizing with a sinking feeling, that it was a Friday. The squid incident had been a Friday.

After a brief, heated exchange, Malfoy and Harry both took off into the air. Hermione was absolutely furious. He was going to get them all in trouble!

Ron whooped loudly, and Gilbert laughed. Anne shot them a menacing glare. Ron glared right back, but Gilbert ignored her. Hermione was momentarily distracted. Was Gilbert really that insulted by Anne's refusal of his friendship?

She turned back to the debacle above again, only to see the Remembrall falling from the sky. Hermione shrieked and grabbed Anne, who was directly in its path, and pulled her out of the way just in time for Harry to swoop down and grab it.

Professor McGonagall suddenly appeared, and, after much shouting, she took Harry back inside the castle.

"It wasn't his fault!" said Ron. Gilbert nodded silently in agreement.

"No one forced him to take off after Malfoy!" Hermione spat. Anne stood next to her, confirming her every word with her angry gaze.

Ron and Hermione continued to shout at each other and Anne and Gilbert continued to pretend to ignore each other until Madam Hooch returned. She was presented with an extremely jumbled retelling of the events from no less than ten different people at once. She had to threaten to give all of them detention for them to all be quiet and answer her questions about what had happened.

"He caught it in his hand after a fifty-foot dive?" said Madam Hooch, impressed.

"Without even hitting the ground," confirmed Gilbert. Anne shifted slightly away, towards Hermione. Hermione was still trying to understand why they were now acting as if the space the other occupied was empty air.

"And Professor McGonagall took him off to her office?"

"She didn't say that that was where they were going, but it probably was." replied Anne. Gilbert was slightly better at concealing his reactions; he didn't even blink.

"Well, then, class dismissed! My, my, what an incredible…" Madam Hooch murmured to herself in impressed tones as the students started to leave. Anne and Hermione took off immediately. The others all straggled behind, but Gilbert waited until they were well out of sight anyway before heading off with Ron.

Madam Hooch had noticed the animosity between Anne and Gilbert. She wondered to herself how on earth they could have offended each other so deeply.


	12. An Interlude

Moonstruck Madness Year One: Chapter 12

An Interlude

_Well, this is a pretty piece of business!" ejaculated Marilla__. _

* * *

"Harry!" Ron shouted, his fork clattering on the table. "Merlin, why are you here?"

"Well, if you want me to sit somewhere else…"

"_Ron!_ Get your fork out of my - Harry!"

Hermione looked disdainfully over at the three boys. The other two boys had abandoned their meals in their excitement –Gilbert even didn't seem to realize that he was brandishing two forks. Harry, who was still wearing the safety gear they had worn for their flying lesson, looked extremely relieved.

Hermione nudged Anne. "Can you believe it? They've managed to get out of trouble. _Again_."

"Well, of course," interjected Lavender from across the table. "He's the _Boy-Who-Lived_. He couldn't get kicked out of Hogwarts if he wanted to."

Parvati giggled. "You don't fancy him, do you?"

Lavender wrinkled her nose. "He's not my type. Foreign guys are _so_ much more attractive."

Anne choked on her ice cream. "You can't be talking about Gilbert Blythe?"

"Isn't his accent dreamy?"

Hermione refrained from pointing out that Anne had the same accent.

"Dreamy?" spluttered Anne, "He's the most horrible, insensitive, slow-witted—"

Anne continued heatedly listing off Gilbert's faults, long after Lavender had hastily escaped her wrath and left the table.

Back in the common room, Hermione took Anne off to the side. "Come now, Anne. Surely you can forgive him after he rescued you from the lake?"

"It wasn't _rescuing_ so much as conveniently being forgetful," sniffed Anne.

Truthfully, a tiny seed of doubt was growing inside her. When Gilbert had asked if they could be friends again, she'd felt the old unforgiving resentment towards him, as if he'd only just called her 'carrots' in front of the whole school and dragged her to an alternate universe. But now it seemed that anger was waning; she couldn't bring herself to hold it against him in the same way. It wasn't really his fault – no, bad thoughts.

Secretly, she couldn't figure out if she had already forgiven him or not.

Now Gilbert was the one ignoring Anne – not sparing her so much as a glance. And it was a new, very odd feeling indeed.

The Weasley twins had just finished congratulating Harry when a rather self-satisfied Malfoy sauntered up to the Gryffindor table.

"Having your last meal, Potter?" he drawled, "When does the train come to dump you back with the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you've got those two thugs behind you." said Harry coolly.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes. "What are you suggesting, Potter? I'd be more careful if I were you. Wouldn't want to get in any more trouble on your last night, would you?" Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly.

"Well Harry's not going home tonight," said Gilbert loudly. "McGonagall let him off. No use crying over spilt _potion_, eh?"

"What are you on about, Blythe?" he sneered. "Should've known they wouldn't kick out _famous_ Harry Potter. Just you wait until my father hears of this."

"I'll bet you'll tell him," scoffed Harry. "You hide behind everyone, don't you Malfoy?"

"I'd beat you anytime on my own," retorted Malfoy. "Tonight, even. We'll settle it with a Wizard's duel. Wands only — no contact. Crabbe's my second, who's yours?"

"I am," said Ron firmly.

"It's set then. Midnight all right? We'll meet in the trophy room—it's never locked."

After Malfoy left, Harry spun to face Ron. "Hold on, what's a wizard's duel? And what's a second?"

"Well, you have a second in case you die," Ron said casually.

"_What!"_

"Don't worry about it, Harry," amended Ron quickly, "The most you'll be able to do is send sparks at each other. It's not like any of us know any real spells."

"So what does that leave me as?" interrupted Gilbert.

"The brainless lackey?" suggested Harry helpfully.

"You know, I've never heard of anyone having a third before…" mumbled Ron to himself.

"Wonderful," Gilbert grumbled. "Well, I'm off – Madame Pomfrey wants to see me for something or another."

He left Harry with Ron attempting to give him advice on how to duck spells, and a stern-looking Hermione who was striding purposefully towards the boys.

* * *

Anne shot a glance at Gilbert, who had been expressionless since she entered the room.

She had left dinner in a hurry, skidding into the hospital wing nearly ten minutes late. But the apology had died on her lips when she had seen who else was waiting in the hospital wing. Anne had forgotten that they'd scheduled their appointments on the same day.

"Just wait over there, dear," Madame Pomfrey had said, "I'll be with you in a moment."

And that was how she had ended up seated awkwardly across Gilbert Blythe, each pretending to ignore the other.

Anne considered whether or not she should muster up the courage to talk to Gilbert. She should at least properly thank him for being conveniently forgetful. Or had she already? Her memory of the incident was rather clouded.

Perhaps Gilbert's lack of reaction prevented her from approaching her. He had barely acknowledged that Anne was there. Normally, they would have been well into spitting flames at each other, but they were strangely tranquil.

Anne had pulled a book out of his bag once the silence had gotten too overbearing, but she couldn't concentrate on reading it. She was used to filling such silences with her own mindless chatter, but it seemed like the wrong time and the wrong person to be talking to casually.

Madame Pomfrey mercifully popped her head into the waiting room. "Sorry for the wait, my dears." She glanced at her clipboard. "Mr. Blythe, you'll be first."

As Gilbert strode past her pointedly avoiding her eyes, Anne couldn't help but wonder if the icy calmness between them was better or not. Well, at least now she could concentrate on her book.

Gilbert decided that he'd try extra hard not to ever have to end up in the infirmary again.

The moment he'd entered the second room he had been hustled into a hospital gown and forced to down multicolored, bitter-tasting potions. Probably questionable substances, too, judging by the odor they were giving off.

Watching himself glow bright blue was a quite unnerving as well, and by the way Madame Pomfrey's eyebrows drew together, he could only guess it wasn't good news. Gilbert was almost sure Muggle checkups never went like this – he hadn't been to a doctor in the present time period, after all.

Madame Pomfrey herself was rather formidable for such a small woman. "Now you finish the rest of that while I get your results, alright?" she said sternly.

He nodded, grimacing at the taste the last potion left in his mouth.

She came back moments later, frowning at a square of parchment.

"Could you show me your wand, dear?"

He gave it to her, and she tapped it with her once, twice -but with no result. Her frown deepened. "Well, this is unusual." She moved to the fireplace across from the bed, throwing in a handful of powder.

"Minerva?" she called, "Do you have a moment?" She crouched down and spoke to the professor in hushed tones.

Moments later, she reemerged. "Professor Burbage noted that you had a memory lapse? Have you had any other odd symptoms lately? Fainting, or strange dreams?" she inquired.

He nodded reluctantly. "Yes, but only once. Lately, I've just been getting tired easily."

"I see." She pursed her lips. "Well, I'm sorry Mr. Blythe, but it looks like you'll be staying at the infirmary tonight."

He protested. "But—"

"No buts." She said with a note of finality. Her expression softened. "Don't worry, Professor McGongall will explain everything in the morning."

Gilbert sighed. There went his hope of escaping the hospital wing before midnight. It looked like he was in for a long night.

* * *

'Where in blazes is Gilbert?" whispered Ron loudly.

"Dunno, he never came back from the infirmary." whispered Harry back. "Pipe down, will you? You'll wake the others." They held their breath as Seamus rolled to the other side of his bed, but thankfully stayed asleep.

"Half-past eleven," said Ron quietly, "We should get going. Gilbert's probably not going to make it back tonight anyhow."

They crept down into the Gryffindor common room. The room was completely dark, and eerily silent. Ron had one hand on the portrait hole, about to push it when a disapproving voice made him jump out of his skin.

"I can't believe you're actually going through with this, Harry."

* * *

A/N: thanks for all the reviews, and for sticking with us! That 7-month gap between chapters 10 and 11 was…terrible.

L00ny and I will be replying to reviews individually from now on (unless they're anon), so we don't clutter the fic, and to make sure we don't leave any out on accident.


	13. The Importance of Humming On Key

Moonstruck Madness: Year One

Chapter 13: The Importance of Humming

_"A little opposition gives spice to life."_

~Gilbert Blythe, Anne's House of Dreams

* * *

It was about half-past eleven, or maybe a little earlier, when Hermione woke up and realized that Anne wasn't in her bed.

Parvati and Lavender were fast asleep, so Hermione didn't bother waking them. She crossed the room to pick up her bathrobe, checked the bathroom quickly, then slipped silently down the stairs.

"Anne?" she asked the empty common room. Anne definitely wasn't here. She was a light sleeper.

Hermione looked at the clock. Midnight was soon - oh, those stupid boys! They'd probably be down soon, if they were silly enough to listen to Malfoy. She'd been planning to come down here at about this time anyway, but her alarm clock appeared to have a problem.

She walked over to the portrait and tugged it open. There was a dark figure in the hallway, moving away somewhat slowly.

Hermione hesitated, then said, louder than a whisper but not a shout, "Anne?"

The figure turned around and saw the open portrait hole. It rushed over.

"Neville?" Hermione said anxiously. "What are you doing?"

"Thank goodness!" He looked relieved. "I forgot the password, and I was just pacing up and down this hallway, since I couldn't get to bed."

"Well, come in," Hermione said irritably. "Have you seen Anne? Did she walk by?"

"I don't know," Neville said. "I sort of fell asleep, and I think I saw someone who looked kind of ghostly. It might have been her."

"Well, isn't this a fine kettle of fish," Hermione muttered, using her friend's favorite expression. "Go to bed, Neville."

Neville obeyed, shuffling across the room and up the stairs.

Hermione began to pace the dark room. Where could Anne be?

She heard someone coming down the stairs. Quickly, she sat down in the nearest chair. For some reason, she was anxious not to be discovered - there was something illicit about being up so late.

As the people came nearer, she recognized them as Harry and Ron. Stupid boys!

"I can't believe you're actually going through with this, Harry," she said without meaning to. She reached over and flicked the lamp on, standing up. They jumped. "Go back to bed, both of you."

"_You_ go back to bed," Ron said. "This isn't any of your business."

"I'm going out with you," Hermione said. "At least I have a good excuse." She sensed that arguing with them would be rather difficult.

"You have an excuse?" Ron said. "Wait - you're leaving the common room at night?" He started laughing.

"Be quiet!" Harry hissed.

Ron shut up.

"Anne's missing," Hermione said. "I can say either that I was looking for her or I was trying to find McGonagall to tell her. You have no such excuse. Good night." She walked over to the portrait and yanked it open, sliding it shut behind her.

After marching down the hallway for five seconds, Hermione realized how ridiculous she looked, and assumed a more normal posture. If the boys were following her, well, she didn't care.

"Anne?" she called softly as she turned the corner.

No response.

She meandered along hallways, then up a staircase to the next floor. Maybe Anne was sleepwalking again?

Hermione turned and spotted Harry and Ron sneaking up the stairs at the other end of the hall. The trophy room was just at the end of the corridor. "You idiots!"

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."

Everyone recognized Filch's voice.

Harry waved at Ron agitatedly, who scurried to follow him. Hermione rushed after them. Her excuse had entirely slipped her mind.

"What are you doing here?" Ron whispered as they caught up.

Filch kept muttering. Hermione remembered her excuse, but realized how flimsy it was now that she was running away.

Ron stopped suddenly. Harry bumped into him, and Hermione tripped over Harry's foot and careened into a suit of armor, knocking down three more in a domino effect.

"RUN!" Harry shouted. They ran until Hermione had absolutely no idea where they were anymore, through hidden passages and around doorposts.

Finally, they came to a stop. Everyone was panting. Hermione slumped against the wall.

"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "As quickly as possible."

Hermione realized something. "Malfoy tricked you," she explained. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be there, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"Come on, let's just go," Ron said.

Before they even moved, Peeves came hurtling out of a nearby classroom.

Hermione's brain froze. They were doomed.

Her brain unfroze about when Peeves started shouting. Ron grabbed her by the arm, and they half-sprinted, half-slid down the hall as fast as they possibly could - straight into a locked door.

A ghostly figure came around the corner, with blood-red hair and a white nightgown - "Anne!" Hermione gasped.

She did indeed look frightening, and extremely pale in the dark. She also seemed to be humming, her eyes half-shut.

There was only one thing to do. Ignoring the strange noises Ron was making, Hermione grabbed Harry's wand and pointed it at the lock. "Alohomora!"

Everyone nearly fell through the door - Hermione yanked Anne in by the arm - and Harry slammed it shut behind them. Ron pressed his ear against it.

There was no sound except Anne humming, and some noise she couldn't identify -

Hermione turned around slowly.

It was a dog.

A really big dog.

With three heads.

Oh dear.

Hermione whimpered.

"What is it?" Ron said irritably, turning as well and freezing midway.

Harry also turned at the same moment.

They were all staring at it, except Anne, still happily asleep on her feet.

That was when Hermione realized something.

The dog wasn't attacking. It was bobbing its head slightly, as though in time to music, its eyes half closed, in fact - it reminded her of something.

"Don't move," she whispered.

Then she listened.

It was indeed bobbing its head in time to Anne's humming.

What on earth was a dog like this doing here? Hermione wondered to herself. Then she saw it. It was standing on a trapdoor. She pointed. Both boys followed her finger and saw it too.

"What - " Ron cut himself off. Luckily, the beast didn't notice, still absorbed in Anne's thankfully on-key song.

"Anne," Hermione said involuntarily.

Harry poked her before she could stop him. He'd misinterpreted her - curse all boys. Idiots, the lot of them.

Somehow, that one poke woke Anne up, when pulling her by the arm and the drooling dog had failed to do so.

Anne opened her eyes fully, and screamed. Naturally, screaming meant that she had to stop humming.

All four of them grabbed for the door as the dog growled and swiped its giant paws.

The only thing Hermione remembered after that was running for her life.


	14. Mysterious Mysteries

**Moonstruck Madness -Year One: Chapter 14**

**Mysterious Mysteries**

_"People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble is." Anne Shirley, Anne of Green Gables_

* * *

The next morning, Hermione found herself alone in the girl's dorm as everyone else had seen fit to get up extra early. The boys were nowhere to be seen.

Hermione rushed towards the Great Hall and found Neville Longbottom tentatively asking Anne if she had found her way back to the common room all right the night before. Anne, utterly confused, had just been about to reply that she had absolutely no recollection of doing so when Hermione dragged her away by the arm.

After Hermione had explained everything to Anne in whispers, including the trapdoor she thought she had seen, Hermione firmly decided that they would put the incident behind them, though Anne seemed inclined to investigate further - she had not experienced the full horror of the three headed dog, having been asleep most of the time.

What they did agree upon, however, was that they were quite lucky that Anne hummed in tune.

After classes the next afternoon Harry and Ron found a glum Gilbert staring out of his hospital window. Eagerly, they filled Gilbert in on the details of their midnight adventure.

"You should have seen Malfoy's face at breakfast!" grinned Harry.

His mood slightly lifted, Gilbert still couldn't help but feel disappointed that his best friends had risked expulsion to throw colorful sparks at Malfoy—without him.

"Hermione ignored us all day, though," Harry said, remembering how Hermione had immediately pulled Anne in the opposite direction whenever they had tried to approach them.

"All the better," replied Ron, who had been flabbergasted that neither had the slightest interest in what else lay in the forbidden corridor. Hermione's refusal to speak to him had also made being Potions partners rather difficult.

"You'd think we'd dragged them along, wouldn't you? Not even a bit thankful that we rescued her from that dog. What's her name again? Ana - Annie, no, Ann?"

"It's spelled with an 'e'," Gilbert found himself saying involuntarily.

"Whatever." Ron shot him an odd look. "How can you tell the difference, anyway? It all sounds the same." Gilbert shrugged noncommittally.

Harry interjected, "But aren't either of you worried that a three headed dog living above our heads? I don't think Dumbledore's keeping it as a pet."

"Hagrid might know," said Gilbert, "He's the gamekeeper after all."

"I wouldn't really call that thing game, Gil, more like—"

"A monster?"

"Something like that."

The boys agreed to ask Hagrid about the dog that evening, since he had invited them over for tea. Harry and Ron promised to tell Gilbert everything if Gilbert wasn't out of the hospital wing by then.

All that was really left now was a way to getting back at Malfoy.

The three had just been discussing a possible plan that involved Chocolate Frogs when Madame Pomfrey burst into the room indignantly. "Honestly, I don't know what that man is thinking! Letting first years work with corrosive ingredients the first few weeks of school—I'm absolutely full to the brim!" Her eyes alit on the idle boys. "You—Potter! Pick up some Blood-Replenishing Potion for me from Professor Snape, will you? I'm all out of stock!"

"But, Madame Pomfrey—Professor Snape hates me!" said Harry, alarmed.

"Nonsense! When would he have the time to do that?"

Harry looked helplessly at Harry and Gilbert, but the both of them seemed too intimidated by the fuming mediwitch. Reluctantly, he headed towards the dungeons.

"And Weasley, visiting hours are over. Out of the Hospital Wing with you."

"But Madame Pomfrey –" Gilbert protested.

"No buts." She said with a note of finality. Her expression softened. "Don't worry, Professor McGonagall will explain everything in the morning."

* * *

Snape was a mysterious mystery.

The proper method of making a Boil-cure potion was also a mystery.

Anne was determined to get to the bottom of these two mysteries.

With that in mind, she meandered through the hallways and down several flights of stairs to Snape's classroom in the dungeons.

Upon opening the door, he had his usual sour expression and a stack of graded papers in his hands.

"How can I help you, Miss Shirley?" he said, in a voice that suggested that the way _she_ could best help _him_ was to leave immediately.

Anne mustered up her courage and asked her question. Something in his expression changed, as though she'd reminded him of someone he'd known a long time ago. He gave her another appraising look, taking in her red braids and gray-green eyes, and stepped back, allowing her into the classroom.

The way he explained the question to her made her think he'd explained that particular question to someone before, though it was an unusual sort of question to ask. He seemed less intimidating than in class. Though his first impression to her had been like another Mr. Phillips, she thought that really, they were nothing alike. Anne concluded that she should make an effort to get to know Professor Snape better and get to the bottom of the mysterious mystery.

The door opened, revealing Harry Potter, looking somewhat wary.

"Excuse me, Professor," Harry said, "Madam Pomfrey sent me -"

Snape stood and shoved an armful of potion containers into Harry's hands.

"Blood-Replenishing potion," he instructed, "And the potions she ordered yesterday."

Harry nodded and tried to slink out of the room - unsuccessfully, because the potions were about to fall out of his not so tight grip.

"Do you need help?" Anne asked, taking a few of the potions out of his hands without waiting for his answer. "Thank you, Professor Snape, I'll be sure to come back if I have any more questions."

* * *

As the door shut behind them, Harry saw a peculiar expression on Snape's face.

"He's really not that bad, you know," Anne said as they walked towards the hospital wing. "He's actually a very nice man. He's mysterious, of course, but lots of things are."

Harry gave her an odd look. Anne Shirley was very strange. Maybe it was because she was Canadian - but Gilbert was a perfectly normal Canadian, so that couldn't be it.

"What's really mysterious," Anne continued, "is that dog. Hermione noticed there was a trapdoor behind it. Isn't that strange? I slept through all of it, of course, but I'd love to go back and investigate. Wouldn't you?"

Harry made a noncommittal noise that Anne took for agreement.

They arrived at the hospital wing, at which point Anne, seeing Gilbert, put down the potions and dashed away.

"Oh good, Mr. Potter, you've returned," Madam Pomfrey said, collecting all the potions together with much more ease than Harry had. She put three down by Gilbert, told him to drink, and continued distributing them amongst the other hospital beds.

Harry and Ron made loud conversation with Gilbert about Quidditch and the incidents of the previous night to distract him from the taste of the potions. They looked incredibly unappetizing, but Gilbert seemed to look a little less pale by the time he had finished two.

Harry mentioned the trapdoor as Gilbert was starting the third potion.

"We should go and have another look!" Ron said. Gilbert nearly spat out the potion in his mouth.

"Why?" Harry asked. "I don't want to go anywhere near that dog again."

"Well, if Anya hums again, we should be fine, right? And she won't be asleep this time. She said she wanted to come, right? Even better, Hermione won't tag along..."

Gilbert groaned and buried his face in his pillow while Harry reluctantly agreed to the plan. He was curious, after all...

* * *

Hermione was not curious. She was furious.

"They'll get themselves killed!" she shouted to someone in the hospital wing. Gilbert cowered before her anger. He hoped she wasn't shouting at him.

She was. Hermione rounded on him and advanced on his hospital bed. For the first time, Gilbert was dismayed that Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen.

"You're going to come with me and make sure that they don't get themselves killed," she said, her eyebrows drawing together. "I can't dissuade Anne, and I can't keep _those_ two _boys_ in control by myself."

Gilbert nodded reflexively, unable to speak. Hermione left in a huff, her hair bouncing with every step.

Gilbert sat there, stunned for several minutes. What_ did I just get myself into?_ Gilbert thought.

* * *

A/N: YAY WE'RE NOT DEAD!  
We have returned, the story has picked up, and we have planned out the rest of Year 1. There will probably be about 7 or 8 more chapters, counting this one, and we plan to post about once a month. ~junie and l00ny


End file.
